MA S TER 
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AUTHOR: 


TITLE: 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


PLACE: 


NEW  YORK 


DA  TE : 


[1917] 


COLUMBIA  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARIES 
PRESERVATION  DEPARTMENT 

BIBLIOGRAPHIC  MICROFORM  TARCFT 


Master  Negative  # 


•■■W" 


Original  Material  as  Filmed  -  Existing  BibUographic  Record 


-^ 


Creative  intelligence;  essays  in  the  pragmatic  attitude,  by 
Jolin  Dewey  (and  othere^  ...  New  York,  H.  Holt  and  com- 
pany  (lOlTj 

ix  p..  2  1.,  3-467  p.    19J  cm.  = 

Contents.— The  need  for  recovery  of  plillosophy.  by  j   Dewev  — 
Reformation  of  logic  by  A  W.  Moore^-InteHIgen^c^'ind  nmt^eS 

wln^-^^^'T"""^'^^^''"^^  "^^^^""^  «"d  individual  thinker,  by  G  H 
Mead.— Consciousness  and  psychology,  by  B.  H    Bode— The  nhi««i 
of  the  economic  Interests,  by  H.  W.Stuart-The  moral  life  aSd^ 
construction  of  values  and  standards,  by  J.  H    Tufte— Value  and 
ezlstence  in  philosophy,  art  and  religion,  by  nVKaUen  ^ 

X  Philosophy— Addresses,  essays,  lectures.    2  Praematism  t 

Dewey.  John.  1859-;9i<a,n.  Moore,  Addison^VeS     m  *  BrowfT- 
Harold  Chapman.  1879-  iv.  Mead.  George  Herbert.  18(a-mL 


V.  Bode,  Boyd  Henry,  1873- 
vn.  Tufts,  James 
Horace  Meyer,  1882- 

B832.C7 

Library  of  Congress 


(D 


VI.  Stuart,  Henry  Waldgrave,  1871- 
Hayden.    18Ga-ll>42.       vm.    Kallen, 


CONTINUED  ON  NUT  CARD 


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Restrictions  on  Use: 


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Copy  in  Barnard.      cl917a 


Copy  in  Psychology.     el9173 


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mtljeCitpafJlmigark 

THE  LIBRARIES 


GIVEN  BY 


Miriam  Sutro  Price 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


ESSAYS  IN  THE  PRAGMATIC  ATTITUDE 


BY 

JOHN  DEWEY 

ADDISON  W.  MOORE 

HAROLD  CHAPMAN  BROWN 

GEORGE  H.  MEAD 

BOYD  H.  BODE 

HENRY  WALDGRAVE  STUART 

JAMES  HAYDEN  TUFTS 

HORACE  M.  KALLEN 


NEW  YORK 
HENRY  HOLT  AND  COMPANY 


/c4 


COPTRIQHT,  1917, 

Br 
HENRY  HOLT  AND  COMPANY 


Fabliahed  Jauu&ry,  1917 


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PREFATORY  NOTE 


THE  OUINN  «   ■OOCN   CO.    MUM 
■AHWAY,  N.  J. 


The  Essays  which  follow  represent    an  attempt  at 
intellectual   cooperation.     No  effort  has  been  made, 
however,  to  attain  unanimity  of  belief  nor  to  proffer  a 
platform  of  "  planks  "  on  which  there  is  agreement.  The 
consensus  represented  lies  primarUy  in  outlook,  in  con- 
viction of  what  is  most  likely  to  be  fruitful  in  method 
of  approach.     As  the  title  page  suggests,  the  volume 
presents  a  unity  in  attitude  rather  than  a  uniformity 
in   results.     Consequently   each  writer   is  definitively 
responsible  only  for  his  own  essay.     The  reader  will 
note  that  the  Essays  endeavor  to  embody  the  common 
attitude   in   application  to   specific   fields   of  inquiry 
which  have  been  historically  associated  with  philosophy 
rather  than  as  a  thing  by  itself.    Beginning  with  philos- 
ophy itself,  subsequent  contributions  discuss  its  appli- 
cation to  logic,  to  mathematics,  to  physical  science,  to 
psychology,  to  ethics,  to  economics,  and  then  again  to 
philosophy  itself  in  conjunction  with  esthetics  and  re- 
ligion.   The  reader  will  probably  find  that  the  signifi- 
cant points  of  agreement  have  to  do  with  the  ideas  of  the 
genuineness  of  the  future,  of  intelligence  as  the  organ 
for  determining  the  quality  of  that  future  so  far  as  it 
can  come  within  human  control,  and  of  a  courageously 
inventive  individual  as  the  bearer  of  a  creatively  cm- 
ployed  mind.    While  all  the  essays  are  new  in  the  form 
in  which  they  are  now  published,  various  contributors 

Ui 


!▼ 


PREFATORY    NOTE 


make  their  acknowledgments  to  the  editors  of  the 
Philosophical  Review,  the  Psychological  Review,  and 
the  Journal  of  Philosophy,  Psychology  and  Scientific 
Methods  for  use  of  material  which  first  made  its  appear- 
ance in  the  pages  of  these  journals. 


CONTENTS 

The  Need  foe  a  Recovery  of  Philosophy 
John  Dewey,  Columbia  University. 


PAGB 

3 


70 


118 


Refoemation  of  Logic  .        •        •        •        •       ••• 

Addison  W.  Moore,  University  of  Chicago. 

Intelligence  and  Mathematics 

Harold  Chapman  Brown,  Leland  Stanford, 
Jr.,  University. 

Scientific  Method  and  Individual  Thinkee    .     176 
George  H.  Mead,  University  of  Chicago. 

Consciousness  and  Psychology       .        .         .     228 
Boyd  H.  Bode,  University  of  Illinois. 

The  Phases  of  the  Economic  Inteeest     .      .     282 
Henry  Waldgrave  Stuart,  Leland  Stanford, 
Jr.,  University. 

The  Moeal  Life  and  the  Consteuction  of 

Values  and   Standaeds ^^^ 

James  Hayden  Tufts,  University  of  Chicago. 

Value  and  Existence  in  Philosophy,  Aet,  and 

409 
Religion 

Horace  M.  Kallen,  University  of  Wisconsin. 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


THE  NEED  FOR  A  RECOVEEY  OF 

PHILOSOPHY 

JOHN  DEWBT 

Intellectuai.  advance  occurs  in  two  ways.     At 
times  increase  of  knowledge  is  organized  about  old 
conceptions,    while    these    are    expanded,    elaborated 
and  refined,  but  not  seriously  revised,  much  less  aban- 
doned.   At  other  times,  the  increase  of  knowledge  de- 
mands  qualitative  rather  than  quantitative  change; 
alteration,  not  addition.     Men's  minds  grow  cold  to 
their   former   intellectual  concerns;  ideas   that  were 
burning  fade;  interests  that  were  urgent  seem  remote. 
Men  face  in  another  direction ;  their  older  perplexities 
are  unreal;  considerations  passed  over  as  negligible 
loom  up.    Former  problems  may  not  have  been  solved, 
but  they  no  longer  press  for  solution.  _  ■     ..  . 

PhUosophy  is  no  exception  to  the  rule.  But  it  u 
unusuaUy  conservative-not,  necessarUy,  in  proffenng 
solutions,  but  in  clinging  to  problems.  It  has  been  so 
allied  with  theology  and  theological  morals  as  repre- 
sentatives of  men's  chief  interests,  that  radical  altera- 
tion has  been  shocking.  Men's  activities  took  a  de- 
cidedly new  turn,  for  example,  in  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury, and  it  seemed  as  if  philosophy,  under  the  lead  of 
thinkers  like  Bacon  and  Descartes,  was  to  execute  an 
about-face.    But,  in  spite  of  the  ferment,  it  turned  out. 


4  CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 

that  many  of  the  older  problems  were  but  translated 
from  Latin  into  the  vernacular  or  into  the  new  termi- 
nology furnished  by  science. 

The  association  of  philosophy  with  academic  teach- 
ing has  reinforced  this  intrinsic  conservatism.  Scho- 
lastic philosophy  persisted  in  universities  after  men's 
thoughts  outside  of  the  walls  of  colleges  had  moved 
in  other  directions.  In  the  last  hundred  years  intel- 
lectual advances  of  science  and  politics  have  in  like 
fashion  been  crystallized  into  material  of  instruction 
and  now  resist  further  change.  I  would  not  say  that 
the  spirit  of  teaching  is  hostile  to  that  of  liberal  in- 
quiry, but  a  philosophy  which  exists  largely  as  some- 
thing to  be  taught  rather  than  wholly  as  something 
to  be  reflected  upon  is  conducive  to  discussion  of  views 
held  by  others  rather  than  to  immediate  response.  Phi- 
losophy when  taught  inevitably  magnifies  the  history 
of  past  thought,  and  leads  professional  philosophers  to 
approach  their  subject-matter  through  its  formulation 
in  received  systems.  It  tends,  also,  to  emphasize  points 
upon  which  men  have  divided  into  schools,  for  these 
lend  themselves  to  retrospective  definition  and  elabora- 
tion. Consequently,  philosophical  discussion  is  likely 
to  be  a  dressing  out  of  antithetical  traditions,  where 
criticism  of  one  view  is  thought  to  afford  proof  of  the 
truth  of  its  opposite  (as  if  formulation  of  views  guar- 
anteed logical  exclusives).  Direct  preoccupation  with 
contemporary  difficulties  is  left  to  literature  and  poli- 
tics. 

If  changing  conduct  and  expanding  knowledge  ever 
required  a  willingness  to  surrender  not  merely  old  solu- 


A    RECOVERY    OF    PHILOSOPHY  5 

tions  but  old  problems  it  is  now.    I  do  not  mean  that 
we  can  turn  abruptly  away  from  all  traditional  issues. 
This  is  impossible;  it  would  be  the  undoing  of  the  one 
who  attempted  it.    Irrespective  of  the  professionalizmg 
of  philosophy,  the  ideas  philosophers  discuss  are  still 
those  in  which  Western  civilization  has  been  bred.  They 
are  in  the  backs  of  the  heads  of  educated  people.    But 
what  serious-minded  men  not  engaged  in  the  profes- 
sional business  of  phUosophy  most  want  to  know  is 
what  modifications  and  abandonments  of  intellectual  in- 
heritance arc  required  by  the  newer  industrial,  politi- 
cal, and  scientific  movements.     They  want  to  know 
what  these  newer  movements  mean  when  translated  into 
general    ideas.      Unless    professional   philosophy    can 
mobilize  itself  sufficiently  to  assist  in  this  clarification 
and  redirection  of  men's  thoughts,  it  is  likely  to  get 
more  and  more  sidetracked  from  the  main  currents  of 
contemporary  life. 

This  essay  may,  then,  be  looked  upon  as  an  attempt 
to  forward  the  emancipation  of  philosophy  from  too 
intimate  and  exclusive  attachment  to  traditional  prob- 
lems. It  is  not  in  intent  a  criticism  of  various  solu- 
tions that  have  been  offered,  but  raises  a  question  as  to 
the  genuineness,  under  the  present  conditions  of  science 
and  social  life,  of  the  problems. 

The  limited  object  of  my  discussion  will,  doubtless, 
give  an  exaggerated  impression  of  my  conviction  as 
to  the  artificiality  of  much  recent  philosophizing.  Not 
that  I  have  wilfully  exaggerated  in  what  I  have  said, 
but  that  the  limitations  of  my  purpose  have  led  me  not 
to  say  many  things  pertinent  to  a  broader  purpose.    A 


6  CREATIVE   INTELLIGENCE 

discussion  less  restricted  would  strive  to  enforce  the 
genuineness,  in  their  own  context,  of  questions  now  dis- 
cussed mainly  because  they  have  been  discussed  rather 
than  because  contemporary  conditions  of  life  suggest 
them.  It  would  also  be  a  grateful  task  to  dwell  upon 
the  precious  contributions  made  by  philosophic  systems 
which  as  a  whole  are  impossible.  In  the  course  of  the 
development  of  unreal  premises  and  the  discussion  of 
artificial  problems,  points  of  view  have  emerged  which 
are  indispensable  possessions  of  culture.  The  horizon 
has  been  widened ;  ideas  of  great  fecundity  struck  out ; 
imagination  quickened ;  a  sense  of  the  meaning  of  things 
created.  It  may  even  be  asked  whether  these  accompani- 
ments of  classic  systems  have  not  often  been  treated  as 
a  kind  of  guarantee  of  the  systems  themselves.  But 
while  it  is  a  sign  of  an  illiberal  mind  to  throw  away  the 
fertile  and  ample  ideas  of  a  Spinoza,  a  Kant,  or  a 
Hegel,  because  their  setting  is  not  logically  adequate, 
it  is  surely  a  sign  of  an  undisciplined  one  to  treat  their 
contributions  to  culture  as  confirmations  of  premises 
with  which  they  have  no  necessary  connection. 


A  criticism  of  current  philosophizing  from  the  stand- 
point of  the  traditional  quality  of  its  problems  must 
begin  somewhere,  and  the  choice  of  a  beginning  is  arbi- 
trary. It  has  appeared  to  me  that  the  notion  of  experi- 
ence implied  in  the  questions  most  actively  discussed 
gives  a  natural  point  of  departure.  For,  if  I  mistake 
not,  it  is  just  the  inherited  view  of  experience  common 
to  the  empirical  school  and  its  opponents  which  keeps 


i 


A    RECOVERY    OF    PHILOSOPHY  7 

alive  many  discussions  even  of  matters  that  on  their 
face  are  quite  remote  from  it,  while  it  is  also  this  view 
which  is  most  untenable  in  the  light  of  existing  science 
and  social  practice.  Accordingly  I  set  out  with  a  brief 
statement  of  some  of  the  chief  contrasts  between  the 
orthodox  description  of  experience  and  that  congenial 
to  present  conditions. 

(i)  In  the  orthodox  view,  experience  is  regarded 
primarily  as  a  knowledge-affair.  But  to  eyes  not  look- 
ing through  ancient  spectacles,  it  assuredly  appears 
as  an  affair  of  the  intercourse  of  a  living  being  with 
its  physical  and  social  environment,  (ii)  According 
to  tradition  experience  is  (at  least  primarily)  a  psy- 
chical thing,  infected  throughout  by  "subjectivity." 
What  experience  suggests  about  itself  is  a  genuinely 
objective  world  which  enters  into  the  actions  and  suf- 
ferings of  men  and  undergoes  modifications  through 
their  responses,  (iii)  So  far  as  anything  beyond  a 
bare  present  is  recognized  by  the  established  doctrine, 
the  past  exclusively  counts.  Registration  of  what  has 
taken  place,  reference  to  precedent,  is  believed  to  be 
the  essence  of  experience.  Empiricism  is  conceived  of 
as  tied  up  to  what  has  been,  or  is,  "  given.*'  But  ex- 
perience in  its  vital  form  is  experimental,  an  effort  to 
change  the  given;  it  is  characterized  by  projection,  by 
reaching  forward  into  the  unknown;  connexion  with 
a  future  is  its  salient  trait,  (iv)  The  empirical  tradi- 
tion is  committed  to  particularism.  Connexions  and 
continuities  are  supposed  to  be  foreign  to  experience, 
to  be  by-products  of  dubious  validity.  An  experience 
that  is  an  undergoing  of  an  environment  and  a  striy- 


8 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


ing  for  its  control  in  new  directions  is  pregnant  with 
connexions,  (v)  In  the  traditional  notion  experience 
and  thought  are  antithetical  terms.  Inference,  so  far 
as  it  is  other  than  a  revival  of  what  has  been  given  in 
the  past,  goes  beyond  experience ;  hence  it  is  either  in- 
valid, or  else  a  measure  of  desperation  by  which,  using 
experience  as  a  springboard,  we  jump  out  to  a  world 
of  stable  things  and  other  selves.  But  experience,  taken 
free  of  the  restrictions  imposed  by  the  older  concept, 
is  full  of  inference.  There  is,  apparently,  no  conscious 
experience  without  inference;  reflection  is  native  and 
constant. 

These  contrasts,  with  a  consideration  of  the  effect 
of  substituting  the  account  of  experience  relevant  to 
modern  life  for  the  inherited  account,  afford  the  sub- 
ject-matter of  the  following  discussion. 

Suppose  we  take  seriously  the  contribution  made  to 
our  idea  of  experience  by  biology, — not  that  recent 
biological  science  discovered  the  facts,  but  that  it  has 
so  emphasized  them  that  there  is  no  longer  an  excuse 
for  ignoring  them  or  treating  them  as  negligible.  Any 
account  of  experience  must  now  fit  into  the  considera- 
tion that  experiencing  means  living;  and  that  living 
goes  on  in  and  because  of  an  environing  medium,  not 
in  a  vacuum.  Where  there  is  experience,  there  is  a 
living  being.  Where  there  is  life,  there  is  a  double  con- 
nexion maintained  with  the  environment.  In  part,  en- 
vironmental energies  constitute  organic  functions ;  they 
enter  into  them.  Life  is  not  possible  without  such 
direct  support  by  the  environment.  But  while  all 
organic  changes  depend  upon  the  natural  energies  of 


A   RECOVERY    OF    PHILOSOPHY  9 

the  environment  for  their  origination  and  occurrence, 
the  natural  energies  sometimes  carry  the  organic  func- 
tions prosperously  forward,  and  sometimes  act  counter 
to  their  continuance.  Growth  and  decay,  health  and 
disease,  are  alike  continuous  with  activities  of  the  nat- 
ural surroundings.  The  difference  lies  in  the  beanng 
of  what  happens  upon  future  life-activity.  From  the 
standpoint  of  this  future  reference  environment^  inci- 
dents fall  into  groups :  those  favorable  to  life-activities, 

and  those  hostile. 

The    successful    activities    of   the   organism,   those 
within  which  environmental  assistance  is  incorporated, 
react  upon  the  environment  to  bring  about  modifications 
favorable  to  their  own  future.    The  human  being  has 
upon  his  hands  the  problem  of  responding  to  what  is 
going  on  around  him  so  that  these  changes  will  take  one 
turn  rather  than  another,  namely,  that  required  by  its 
own  further  functioning.    While  backed  in  part  by  the 
environment,  its  life  is  anything  but  a  peaceful  ex- 
halation of  environment.    It  is  obliged  to  struggle- 
that  is  to  say,  to  employ  the  direct  support  given  by 
the  environment  in  order  indirectly  to  effect  changes 
that  would  not  otherwise  occur.    In  this  sense,  life  goes 
on  by  means  of  controlling  the  environment.    Its  activi- 
ties must  change  the  changes  going  on  around  it;  they 
must  neutralize  hostile  occurrences ;  they  must  trans- 
form neutral  events  into  cooperative  factors  or  into  an 
efflorescence  of  new  features. 

Dialectic  developments  of  the  notion  of  self-preser- 
vation, of  the  conatus  essendi,  often  ignore  aU  the  im- 
portant facts  of  the  actual  process.    They  argue  as  if 


10 


CREATIVE   INTELLIGENCE 


self-control,  self-development,  went  on  directly  as  a 
sort  of  unrolling  push  from  within.  But  life  endures 
only  in  virtue  of  the  support  of  the  environment.  And 
since  the  environment  is  only  incompletely  enlisted  in 
our  behalf,  self-preservation — or  self-realization  or 
whatever — is  always  indirect — always  an  affair  of  the 
way  in  which  our  present  activities  affect  the  direction 
taken  by  independent  changes  in  the  surroundings. 
Hindrances  must  be  turned  into  means. 

We  are  also  given  to  playing  loose  with  the  concep- 
tion of  adjustment,  as  if  that  meant  something  fixed — 
a  kind  of  accommodation  once  for  all  (ideally  at  least) 
of  the  organism  to  an  environment.  But  as  life  re- 
quires the  fitness  of  the  environment  to  the  organic 
functions,  adjustment  to  the  environment  means  not 
passive  acceptance  of  the  latter,  but  acting  so  that 
the  environing  changes  take  a  certain  turn.  The 
"  higher  "  the  type  of  life,  the  more  adjustment  takes 
the  form  of  an  adjusting  of  the  factors  of  the  environ- 
ment to  one  another  in  the  interest  of  life ;  the  less  the 
significance  of  living,  the  more  it  becomes  an  adjust- 
ment to  a  given  environment  till  at  the  lower  end  of 
the  scale  the  differences  between  living  and  the  non- 
living disappear. 

These  statements  are  of  an  external  kind.  They 
are  about  the  conditions  of  experience,  rather  than 
about  experiencing  itself.  But  assuredly  experience  as 
it  concretely  takes  place  bears  out  the  statements. 
Experience  is  primarily  a  process  of  undergoing:  a 
process  of  standing  something;  of  suffering  and  pas- 
sion, of  affection,  in  the  literal  sense  of  these  words. 


A    RECOVERY    OF    PHILOSOPHY 


11 


The  organism  has  to  endure,  to  undergo,  the  conse- 
quences of  its  own  actions.     Experience  is  no  slipping 
along  in  a  path  fixed  by  inner  consciousness.     Private 
consciousness  is  an  incidental  outcome  of  experience  of 
a  vital  objective  sort ;  it  is  not  its  source.    Undergomg, 
however,  is  never  mere  passivity.     The  most  patient 
patient  is  more  than  a  receptor.  He  is  also  an  agent— 
a  reactor,  one  trying  experiments,  one  concerned  with 
undergoing  in  a  way  which  may  influence  what  is  still 
to  happen.     Sheer  endurance,  side-stepping  evasions, 
are,  after  all,  ways  of  treating  the  environment  with  a 
view  to  what  such  treatment  will  accomplish.     Even  if 
we  shut  ourselves  up  in  the  most  clam-like  fashion,  we 
are  doing  something;  our  passivity  is  an  active  atti- 
tude, not  an  extinction  of  response.     Just  as  there  is 
no  assertive  action,  no  aggressive  attack  upon  thmgs  as 
they  are,  which  is  all  action,  so  there  is  no  undergoing 
which  is  not  on  our  part  also  a  going  on  and  a  going 

through.  . 

Experience,  in  other  words,  is  a  matter  of  simultane- 
ous doings  and  sufferings.    Our  undergoings  are  experi- 
ments in  varying  the  course  of  events;  our  active  try- 
ings  are  trials  and  tests  of  ourselves.     This  duphcity 
of  experience  shows  itself  in  our  happiness  and  misery, 
our  successes  and  failures.     Triumphs  are  dangerous 
when  dwelt  upon  or  lived  off  from;  successes  use  them- 
selves up.     Any   achieved  equilibrium  of   adjustment 
with  the  environment  is  precarious  because  we  cannot 
evenly  keep   pace  with  changes   in  the  environment. 
These  are  so  opposed  in  direction  that  we  must  choose. 
We  must  take  the  risk  of  casting  in  our  lot  with  one 

• 


12 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


movement  or  the  other.  Nothing  can  eliminate  all  risk, 
all  adventure;  the  one  thing  doomed  to  failure  is  to 
try  to  keep  even  with  the  whole  environment  at  once — 
that  is  to  say,  to  maintain  the  happy  moment  when 
all  things  go  our  way. 

The  obstacles  which  confront  us  are  stimuli  to  varia- 
tion, to  novel  response,  and  hence  are  occasions  of 
progress.  If  a  favor  done  us  by  the  environment  con- 
ceals a  threat,  so  its  disfavor  is  a  potential  means  of 
hitherto  unexperienced  modes  of  success.  To  treat 
misery  as  anything  but  misery,  as  for  example  a  bless- 
ing in  disguise  or  a  necessary  factor  in  good,  is  disin- 
genuous apologetics.  But  to  say  that  the  progress  of 
the  race  has  been  stimulated  by  ills  undergone,  and  that 
men  have  been  moved  by  what  they  suffer  to  search 
out  new  and  better  courses  of  action  is  to  speak 
veraciously. 

The  preoccupation  of  experience  with  things  which 
are  coming  (are  now  coming,  not  just  to  come)  is  ob- 
vious to  any  one  whose  interest  in  experience  is  em- 
pirical. Since  we  live  forward ;  since  we  live  in  a  world 
where  changes  are  going  on  whose  issue  means  our 
weal  or  woe;  since  every  act  of  ours  modifies  these 
changes  and  hence  is  fraught  with  promise,  or  charged 
with  hostile  energies — what  should  experience  be  but 
a  future  implicated  in  a  present!  Adjustment  is  no 
timeless  state ;  it  is  a  continuing  process.  To  say  that 
a  change  takes  time  may  be  to  say  something  about  the 
event  which  is  external  and  uninstructive.  But  adjust- 
ment of  organism  to  environment  takes  time  in  the 
pregnant  sense ;  every  step  in  the  process  is  conditioned. 


A    RECOVERY    OF    PHILOSOPHY 


18 


by  reference  to  further  changes  which  it  effects.  What 
is  going  on  in  the  environment  is  the  concern  of  the 
organism ;  not  what  is  already  "  there  "  in  accomplished 
and  finished  form.  In  so  far  as  the  issue  of  what  is 
going  on  may  be  affected  by  intervention  of  the  or- 
ganism,  the  moving  event  is  a  challenge  which  stretches 
the  agent-patient  to  meet  what  is  coming.  Experi- 
encing exhibits  things  in  their  unterminated  aspect 
moving  toward  determinate  conclusions.  The  finished 
and  done  with  is  of  import  as  affecting  the  future,  not 
on  its  own  account:  in  short,  because  it  is  not,  really, 

done  with. 

Anticipation  is  therefore  more  primary  than  recol- 
lection; projection  than  summoning  of  the  past;  the 
prospective  than  the  retrospective.    Given  a  world  like 
that  in  which  we  live,  a  world  in  which  enviromng 
changes    are   partly   favorable    and   partly    callously 
indifferent,  and  experience  is  bound  to  be  prospective 
in  import;  for  any  control  attainable  by  the  living 
creature  depends  upon  what  is  done  to  alter  the  state 
of  things.    Success  and  failure  are  the  primary  "cate- 
gories "  of  life;  achieving  of  good  and  averting  of  ill 
are  its  supreme  interests ;  hope  and  anxiety  (which  are 
not  self-enclosed  states  of  feeling,  but  active  attitudes 
of  welcome   and   wariness)    are  dominant   quaUties   of 
experience.     Imaginative  forecast  of  the  future  is  this 
forerunning  quality  of  behavior  rendered  available  for 
guidance  in  the  present.     Day-dreaming  and  castle- 
building  and  esthetic  realization  of  what  is  not  practi- 
cally achieved  are  offshoots  of  this  practical  trait,  or 
else  practical  intelligence  is  a  chastened  fantasy.     It 


14 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


makes  little  difference.  Imaginative  recovery  of  the 
bygone  is  indispensable  to  successful  invasion  of  the 
future,  but  its  status  is  that  of  an  instrument.  To 
ignore  its  import  is  the  sign  of  an  undisciplined  agent ; 
but  to  isolate  the  past,  dwelling  upon  it  for  its  own 
sake  and  giving  it  the  eulogistic  name  of  knowledge,  is 
to  substitute  the  reminiscence  of  old-age  for  effective 
intelligence.  The  movement  of  the  agent-patient  to 
meet  the  future  is  partial  and  passionate ;  yet  detached 
and  impartial  study  of  the  past  is  the  only  alternative 
to  luck  in  assuring  success  to  passion. 


n 

This  description  of  experience  would  be  but  a  rhap- 
sodic celebration  of  the  commonplace  were  it  not  in 
marked  contrast  to  orthodox  philosophical  accounts. 
The  contrast  indicates  that  traditional  accounts  have 
not  been  empirical,  but  have  been  deductions,  from 
unnamed  premises,  of  what  experience  must  be.  His- 
toric empiricism  has  been  empirical  in  a  technical  and 
controversial  sense.  It  has  said.  Lord,  Lord,  Experi- 
ence, Experience;  but  in  practice  it  has  served  ideas 
forced  into  experience,  not  gathered  from  it. 

The  confusion  and  artificiality  thereby  introduced 
into  philosophical  thought  is  nowhere  more  evident  than 
in  the  empirical  treatment  of  relations  or  dynamic  con- 
tinuities. The  experience  of  a  living  being  struggling 
to  hold  its  own  and  make  its  way  in  an  environment, 
physical  and  social,  partly  facilitating  and  partly  ob- 
structing its  actions,  is  of  necessity  a  matter  of  ties 
and  connexions,  of  bearings  and  uses.    The  very  point 


A    RECOVERY    OF    PHILOSOPHY 


15 


of  experience,  so  to  say,  is  that  it  doesn  t  occur  ma 
Vacuum;  its  agent-patient  instead  of  bemg  insulated 
and  disconnected  is  bound  up  with  the  -v-ent  of 
things  by  most  intimate  and  pervasive  bonds.     Only 
Luse  L  organism  is  in  and  of  the  world,  and  its 
activities  correlated  with  those  of  other  things  m  mul- 
tiple ways,  is  it  susceptible  to  undergoing  things  and 
capable  of  trying  to  reduce  objects  to  means  of  secur- 
ing its  good  fortune.     That  these  connexions  are  of 
diferse  kinds  is  irresistibly  proved  by  the  fluctuations 
which  occur  in  its  career.    Help  and  hindrance,  stimu- 
lation and  inhibition,  success   ^^^^^^^^^^  "I'^^'f'" 
cifically  different  modes  of  correlation.     Al  hough  the 
actions  of  things  in  the  world  are  taking  place  m  one 
continuous  stretch  of  existence,  there  are  ^1  ^^^^^s  of 
specific  affinities,  repulsions,  and  relative  indifferencies 
Dynamic  connexions   are  qualitatively  diverse,  just 
as  are  the  centers  of  action.     In  tins  sense  plura hsm, 
not  monism,  is  an  established  empirical  fact     The  at 
tempt  to  establish  monism  from  consideration  of  the 
very  nature  of  a  relation  is  a  mere  piece  of  dialectics. 
Equally  dialectical  is  the  effort  to  establish  by  a  con- 
sideration  of  the  nature  of  relations  an  ontological 
Pluralism  of  Ultimates :  simple  and  independent  hetngs. 
To  attempt  to  get  results  from  a  consideration  of  the 
"  external "  nature  of  relations  is  of  a  piece  with  the 
attempt  to  deduce  results  from  their     interna      char 
acter      Some  things  are  relatively  msulated  from  the 
influence  of  other  things;  some  ^^i^S^^^^^^^^^y/;^" 
vaded  by  others ;  some  things  are  fiercely  attracted  to 
conjoin  their  activities  with  those  of  others.    Expen- 


le 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


ence  exhibits  every  kind  of  connexion*  from  the  most 
intimate  to  mere  external  juxtaposition. 

Empirically,  then,  active  bonds  or  continuities  of  all 
kinds,  together  with  static  discontinuities,  characterize 
existence.  To  deny  this  qualitative  heterogeneity  is  to 
reduce  the  struggles  and  difficulties  of  life,  its  comedies 
and  tragedies  to  illusion :  to  the  non-being  of  the  Greeks 
or  to  its  modern  counterpart,  the  "  subjective."  Expe- 
rience is  an  affair  of  facilitations  and  checks,  of  being 
sustained  and  disrupted,  being  let  alone,  being  helped 
and  troubled,  of  good  fortune  and  defeat  in  all  the 
countless  qualitative  modes  which  these  words  pallidly 
suggest.  The  existence  of  genuine  connexions  of  all 
manner  of  heterogeneity  cannot  be  doubted.  Such 
words  as  conjoining,  disjoining,  resisting,  modifying, 
saltatory,  and  ambulatory  (to  use  James'  picturesque 
term)  only  hint  at  their  actual  heterogeneity. 

Among  the  revisions  and  surrenders  of  historic  prob- 
lems demanded  by  this  feature  of  empirical  situations, 
those  centering  in  the  rationalistic-empirical  contro- 
versy may  be  selected  for  attention.  The  implications 
of  this  controversy  are  twofold:  First,  that  connex- 
ions are  as  homogeneous  in  fact  as  in  name;  and,  sec- 
ondly, if  genuine,  are  all  due  to  thought,  or,  if  em- 

•The  word  relation  suffers  from  ambiguity.  I  am  speaking 
here  of  connexion,  djrnamic  and  functional  interaction.  "Rela- 
tion" is  a  term  used  also  to  express  logical  reference.  I  suspect 
that  much  of  the  controversy  about  internal  and  external  relations 
is  due  to  this  ambiguity.  One  passes  at  will  from  existential 
connexions  of  things  to  logical  relationship  of  terms.  Such  an 
identification  of  existences  with  terms  is  congenial  to  idealism,  but 
is  paradoxical  in  a  professed  realism. 


A    RECOVERY    OF    PHILOSOPHY  17 

pirical,  are  arbitrary  by-products  of  past  particulars. 
The  stubborn  particularism  of  orthodox  empiricism  is 
its  outstanding  trait ;  consequently  the  opposed  ration- 
aUsm  found  no  justification  of  bearings,  continuities, 
and  ties  save  to  refer  them  in  gross  to  the  work  of  a 
hyper-empirical  Reason. 

Of  course,  not  all  empiricism  prior  to  Hume  and 
Kant  was  sensationalistic,  pulverizing  "experience" 
into  isolated  sensory  qualities  or  simple  ideas.    It  did 
not  all  follow  Locke's  lead  in  regarding  the  entire  con- 
tent of  generalization  as  the  «  workmanship  of  the  un- 
derstanding." On  the  Cemtinent,  prior  to  Kant,  philoso- 
phers were  content  to  draw  a  line  between  empirical 
generalizations  regarding  matters  of  fact  and  neces- 
sary universals  applying  to  truths  of  reason.     But 
logical  atomism  was  implicit  even  in  this  theory.    State- 
ments referring  to  empirical  fact  were  mere  quantita- 
tive summaries  of  particular  instances.    In  the  sensa- 
tionalism which  sprang  from  Hume  (and  which  was  left 
unquestioned  by  Kant  as  far  as  any  strictly  empirical 
clement  was  concerned)  the  implicit  particularism  was 
made  explicit.    But  the  doctrine  that  sensations  and 
ideas  are  so  many  separate  existences  was  not  derived 
from  observation  nor  from  experiment.    It  was  a  logi- 
cal deduction  from  a  prior  unexamined  concept  of  the 
nature  of  experience.    From  the  same  concept  it  fol- 
lowed that  the  appearance  of  stable  objects  and  of 
general  principles  of  connexion  was  but  an  appear- 
ance.* 

•There  is  some  gain  in  substituting  a  doctrine  of  «>»»"* 
teterpenetration  of  psydiical  sUtes,  4  la  Bergson,  for  that  of 


18 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


I 


Kantianism,  then,  naturally  invoked  universal  bonds 
to  restore  objectivity.  But,  in  so  doing,  it  accepted 
the  particularism  of  experience  and  proceeded  to  sup- 
plement it  from  non-empirical  sources.  A  sensory 
manifold  being  all  which  is  really  empirical  in  experi- 
ence, a  reason  which  transcends  experience  must  provide 
synthesis.  The  net  outcome  might  have  suggested  a 
correct  account  of  experience.  For  we  have  only  to 
forget  the  apparatus  by  which  the  net  outcome  is  ar- 
rived at,  to  have  before  us  the  experience  of  the  plain 
man — a  diversity  of  ceaseless  changes  connected  in  all 
kinds  of  ways,  static  and  dynamic.  This  conclusion 
would  deal  a  deathblow  to  both  empiricism  and  ration- 
alism. For,  making  clear  the  non-empirical  character 
of  the  alleged  manifold  of  unconnected  particulars,  it 
would  render  unnecessary  the  appeal  to  functions  of 
the  understanding  in  order  to  connect  them.  With  the 
downfall  of  the  traditional  notion  of  experience,  the 
appeal  to  reason  to  supplement  its  defects  becomes 
superfluous. 

The  tradition  was,  however,  too  strongly  entrenched ; 
especially  as  it  furnished  the  subject-matter  of  an  al- 
leged science  of  states  of  mind  which  were  directly 
known  in  their  very  presence.  The  historic  outcome 
was  a  new  crop  of  artificial  puzzles  about  relations; 
it  fastened  upon  philosophy  for  a  long  time  the  quar- 
rel about  the  a  priori  and  the  a  posteriori  as  its  chief 
issue.     The  controversy  is  to-day  quiescent.     Yet  it  is 

rigid  discontinuity.  But  the  substitution  leaves  untouched  the 
fundamental  misstatement  of  experience,  the  conception  of  expe- 
rience as  directly  and  primarily  ** inner"  and  psychicaL 


A    RECOVERY    OF    PHILOSOPHY  19 

not  at  all  uncommon  to  find  thinkers  modern  in  tone 
and  intent  who  regard  any  phUosophy  of  experience  as 
necessarily  committed  to  denial  of  the  existence  of 
genuinely  general  propositions,  and  who  take  empiri- 
cism to  be  inherently  averse  to  the  recognition  of  the 
importance  of  an  organizing  and  constructive  intelli- 
gence. 

The  quiescence  alluded  to  is  in  part  due,  I  think,  to 
sheer  weariness.     But  it  is  also  due  to  a  change  of 
standpoint  introduced  by  biological  conceptions ;  and 
particularly  the  discovery  of  biological  continuity  from 
the  lower  organisms  to  man.    For  a  short  period,  Spen- 
cerians  might  connect  the  doctrine  of  evolution  with 
the  old  problem,  and  use  the  long  temporal  accumula- 
tion of  "experiences"  to  generate  something  which, 
for  human  experience,  is  a  priori.     But  the  tendency 
of  the  biological  way  of  thinking  is  neither  to  con- 
irm  or  negate  the  Spencerian  doctrine,  but  to  shift  the 
issue.     In  the  orthodox  position  a  posteriori  and  a 
prion  were  affairs  of  knowledge.    But  it  soon  becomes 
obvious  that  while  there  is  assuredly  something  a  priori 
— that  is  to  say,  native,  unlearned,  original — in  hu- 
man experience,  that  something  is  not  knowledge,  but  is 
activities  made  possible  by  means  of  established  con- 
nexions of  neurones.    This  empirical  fact  does  not  solve 
the  orthodox  problem;  it  dissolves  it.     It  shows  that 
the  problem  was  misconceived,  and  solution  sought  by 
both  parties  in  the  wrong  direction. 

Organic  instincts  and  organic  retention,  or  habit- 
forming,  are  undeniable  factors  in  actual  experience. 
They  are  factors  which  effect  organization  and  secure 


so 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


continuity.  They  are  among  the  specific  facts  which 
a  description  of  experience  cognizant  of  the  correla- 
tion of  organic  action  with  the  action  of  other  natural 
objects  will  include.  But  while  fortunately  the  con- 
tribution of  biological  science  to  a  truly  empirical  de- 
scription of  experiencing  has  outlawed  the  discussion 
of  the  a  priori  and  a  posteriori,  the  transforming  effect 
of  the  same  contributions  upon  other  issues  has  gone 
unnoticed,  save  as  pragmatism  has  made  an  effort  to 
bring  them  to  recognition. 


m 

The  point  seriously  at  issue  in  the  notion  of  experi- 
ence common  to  both  sides  in  the  older  controversy 
thus  turns  out  to  be  the  place  of  thought  or  intelli- 
gence in  experience.  Does  reason  have  a  distinctive 
office?  Is  there  a  characteristic  order  of  relations  con- 
tributed by  it? 

Experience,  to  return  to  our  positive  conception,  is 
primarily  what  is  undergone  in  connexion  with  activi- 
ties whose  import  lies  in  their  objective  consequences — 
their  bearing  upon  future  experiences.  Organic  func- 
tions deal  with  things  as  things  in  course,  in  operation, 
in  a  state  of  affairs  not  yet  given  or  completed.  What 
is  done  with,  what  is  just  "  there,"  is  of  concern  only 
in  the  potentialities  which  it  may  indicate.  As  ended, 
as  wholly  given,  it  is  of  no  account.  But  as  a  sign 
of  what  may  come,  it  becomes  an  indispensable  factor 
in  behavior  dealing  with  changes,  the  outcome  of  which 
is  not  yet  determined. 

The  only  power  the  organism  possesses  to  control  its 


A    RECOVERY    OF    PHILOSOPHY 


21 


own  future  depends  upon  the  way  its  present  responses 
modify  changes  which  are  taking  place  in  its  medium. 
A  living  being  may  be  comparatively  impotent,  or  com- 
paratively free.  It  is  all  a  matter  of  the  way  in  which 
its  present  reactions  to  things  influence  the  future  re- 
actions of  things  upon  it.  Without  regard  to  its  wish 
or  intent  every  act  it  performs  makes  some  difference 
in  the  environment.  The  change  may  be  trivial  as  re- 
spects its  own  career  and  fortune.  But  it  may  also 
be  of  incalculable  importance;  it  may  import  harm, 
destruction,  or  it  may  procure  well-being. 

Is  it  possible  for  a  living  being  to  increase  its  con- 
trol of  welfare  and  success?  Can  it  manage,  in  any 
degree,  to  assure  its  future?  Or  does  the  amount  of 
security  depend  wholly  upon  the  accidents  of  the  sit- 
uation? Can  it  learn?  Can  it  gain  abHity  to  assure 
its  future  in  the  present?  These  questions  center  at- 
tention upon  the  significance  of  reflective  intelligence 
in  the  process  of  experience.  The  extent  of  an  agent's 
capacity  for  inference,  its  power  to  use  a  given  fact 
as  a  sign  of  something  not  yet  given,  measures  the  ex- 
tent of  its  ability  systematically  to  enlarge  its  control 

of  the  future. 

A  being  which  can  use  given  and  finished  facts  as 
signs  of  things  to  come ;  which  can  take  given  things 
as  evidences  of  absent  things,  can,  in  that  degree,  fore- 
cast the  future;  it  can  form  reasonable  expectations. 
It  is  capable  of  achieving  ideas;  it  is  possessed  of  in- 
telligence. For  use  of  the  given  or  finished  to  anticipate 
the  consequence  of  processes  going  on  is  precisely 
what  is  meant  by  "  ideas,"  by  "  inteUigence." 


22 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


As  we  have  already  noted,  the  environment  is  rarely 
all  of  a  kind  in  its  bearing  upon  organic  welfare ;  its 
most  whole-hearted  support  of  life-activities  is  precari- 
ous and  temporary.  Some  environmental  changes  are 
auspicious;  others  are  menacing.  The  secret  of  suc- 
cess— that  is,  of  the  greatest  attainable  success — is  for 
the  organic  response  to  cast  in  its  lot  with  present  aus- 
picious changes  to  strengthen  them  and  thus  to  avert 
the  consequences  flowing  from  occurrences  of  ill-omen. 
Any  reaction  is  a  venture ;  it  involves  risk.  We  always 
build  better  or  worse  than  we  can  foretell.  But  the 
organism's  fateful  intervention  in  the  course  of  events 
is  blind,  its  choice  is  random,  except  as  it  can  employ 
what  happens  to  it  as  a  basis  of  inferring  what  is 
likely  to  happen  later.  In  the  degree  in  which  it  can 
read  future  results  in  present  on-goings,  its  responsive 
choice,  its  partiality  to  this  condition  or  that,  become 
intelligent.  Its  bias  grows  reasonable.  It  can  delib- 
erately, intentionally,  participate  in  the  direction  of 
the  course  of  affairs.  Its  foresight  of  different  futures 
which  result  according  as  this  or  that  present  factor 
predominates  in  the  shaping  of  affairs  permits  it  to 
partake  intelligently  instead  of  blindly  and  fatally  in 
the  consequences  its  reactions  give  rise  to.  Participate 
it  must,  and  to  its  own  weal  or  woe.  Inference,  the 
use  of  what  happens,  to  anticipate  what  will — or  at 
least  may — ^happen,  makes  the  difference  between 
directed  and  undirected  participation.  And  this 
capacity  for  inferring  is  precisely  the  same  as 
that  use  of  natural  occurrences  for  the  discovery 
and    determination    of    consequences — the    formation 


A    RECOVERY    OF    PHILOSOPHY  23 

of  new  dynamic  connexions— which  constitutes  knowl- 

edge.  ^ 

The  fact  that  thought  is  an  intrinsic  feature  of  expe- 
rience is  fatal  to  the  traditional  empiricism  which  makes 
it  an  artificial  by-product.     But  for  that  same  reason 
it  is  fatal  to  the  historic  rationalisms  whose  justification 
was  the  secondary  and  retrospective  position  assigned 
to  thought  by  empirical  philosophy.    According  to  the 
particularism  of  the  latter,  thought  was  inevitably  only 
a  bunching  together  of  hard-and-fast  separate  items ; 
thinking  was  but  the  gathering  together  and  tymg  of 
items  already  completely  given,  or  else  an  equally  arti- 
ficial untying— a  mechanical  adding  and  subtractmg  of 
the  given.      It  was  but  a  cumulative   registration,  a 
consolidated  merger ;  generality  was  a  matter  of  bulk, 
not  of  quality.    Thinking  was  therefore  treated  as  lack- 
ing  constructive  power;  even  .its  organizing  capacity 
was  but  simulated,  being  in  truth  but  arbitrary  pigeon- 
holing.     Genuine   projection   of  the   novel,   deliberate 
variation  and  invention,  are  idle  fictions  in  such  a  ver- 
sion of  experience.     If  there  ever  was  creation,  it  all 
took  place  at  a  remote  period.     Since  then  the  world 
has  only  recited  lessons. 

The  value  of  inventive  construction  is  too  precious 
to  be  disposed  of  in  this  cavalier  way.  Its  uncere- 
monious denial  afforded  an  opportunity  to  assert  that 
in  addition  to  experience  the  subject  has  a  ready-made 
faculty  of  thought  or  reason  which  transcends  experi- 
ence. Rationalism  thus  accepted  the  account  of  experi- 
ence given  by  traditional  empiricism,  and  introduced 
reason  as  extra-empirical.    There  are  still  thinkers  who 


44  CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 

regard  any  empiricism  as  necessarily  committed  to  a 
belief  in  a  cut-and-dried  reliance  upon  disconnected 
precedents,  and  who  hold  that  aU  systematic  organiza- 
tion of  past  experiences  for  new  and  constructive  pur- 
poses is  alien  to  strict  empiricism. 

Rationalism  never  explained,  however,  how  a  reason 
extraneous  to  experience  could  enter  into  helpful  rela- 
tion with  concrete  experiences.     By  definition,  reason 
and  experience  were  antithetical,  so  that  the  concern  of 
reason  was  not  the  fruitful  expansion  and  guidance  of 
the  course  of  experience,  but  a  realm  of  considerations 
too  sublime  to  touch,  or  be  touched  by,  experience. 
Discreet  rationalists  confined  themselves  to  theology 
and  allied  branches  of  abtruse  science,  and  to  mathe- 
matics.    Rationalism  would  have  been  a  doctrine  re- 
served for  academic  specialists  and  abstract  formalists 
had  it  not  assumed  the  task  of  providing  an  apolo- 
getics for  traditional  morals  and  theology,  thereby  get- 
ting into  touch  with  actual  human  beliefs  and  concerns. 
It  is  notorious  that  historic  empiricism  was  strong  in 
criticism  and  in  demolition  of  outworn  beliefs,  but  weak 
for  purposes  of  constructive  social  direction.    But  we 
frequently  overlook  the  fact  that  whenever  rationalism 
cut  free  from  conservative  apologetics,  it  was  also  sim- 
ply an  instrumentality  for  pointing  out  inconsistencies 
and  absurdities  in  existing  beliefs— a  sphere  in  which 
it  was  immensely  useful,  as  the  Enlightenment  shows. 
Leibniz  and  Voltaire  were  contemporary  rationalists 
in  more  senses  than  one.* 

•  Mathematical  science  in  its  fonnal  aspects,  or  as  a  branch  of 
formal  lope,  has  been  the  empirical  stronghold  of  raUonalUm.   But 


A    RECOVERY    OF    PHILOSOPHY 


25 


The  recognition  that  reflection  is  a  genuine  factor 
within  experience  and  an  indispensable  factor  in  that 
control  of  the  world  which  secures  a  prosperous  and 
significant  expansion  of  experience  undermines  historic 
rationalism  as  assuredly  as  it  abolishes  the  foundations 
of  historic  empiricism.  The  bearing  of  a  correct  idea 
of  the  place  and  office  of  reflection  upon  modern  ideal- 
isms is  less  obvious,  but  no  less  certain. 

One  of  the  curiosities  of  orthodox  empiricism  is  that 
its  outstanding  speculative  problem  is  the  existence 
of  an  «  external  world."    For  in  accordance  with  the 
notion  that  experience  is  attached  to  a  private  subject 
as  its  exclusive  possession,  a  world  like  the  one  in  which 
we  appear  to  live  must  be  «  external »  to  experience 
instead  of  being  its  subject-matter.  I  call  it  a  curiosity, 
for  if  anything  seems  adequately  grounded  empirically 
it  is  the  existence  of  a  world  which  resists  the  charac- 
teristic functions  of  the  subject  of  experience;  which 
goes  its  way,  in  some  respects,  independently  of  these 
functions,  and  which  frustrates  our  hopes  and  mten- 
tions.      Ignorance    which    is    fatal;    disappointment; 
the  need  of  adjusting  means  and  ends  to  the  course 
of  nature,  would  seem  to  be  facts  sufficiently  charac- 
terizing empirical  situations  as  to  render  the  existence 
of  an  external  world  indubitable. 

That  the  description  of  experience  was  arrived  at 
by  forcing  actual  empirical  facts  into  conformity  with 
dialectic  developments  from  a  concept  of  a  knower  out- 

an  empirical  empiricism,  in  contrast  with  orthodox  deducti^ 
empiricism,  has  no  difficulty  in  estabUshing  its  junsdicUon  as  to 
deductive   functions. 


26  CREATIVE   INTELLIGENCE 

side  of  the  real  world  of  nature  is  testified  to  by  the  his- 
toric aUiance  of  empiricism  and  idealism*    According 
to  the  most  logically  consistent  editions  of  orthodox 
empiricism,  all  that  can  be  experienced  is  the  fleeting, 
the  momentary,  mental  state.     That  alone  is  abso- 
lutely and  indubitably  present;  therefore,  it  alone  is 
cognitively  certain.     It  alone  is  knowledge.     The  ex- 
istence of  the  past  (and  of  the  future),  of  a  decently 
stable  world  and  of  other  selves— indeed,  of  one's  own 
self— f  aUs  outside  this  datum  of  experience.    These  can 
be  arrived  at  only  by  inference  which  is  «  ejective  »— 
a  name  given  to  an  alleged  type  of  inference  that  jumps 
from  experience,  as  from  a  springboard,  to  something 
beyond  experience. 

I  should  not  anticipate  difBculty  in  showing  that  this 
doctrine   is,  dialectically,  a  mass   of   inconsistencies. 
Avowedly  it  is  a  doctrine  of  desperation,  and  as  such 
it  is  cited  here  to  show  the  desperate  straits  to  which 
ignoring  empirical  facts  has  reduced  a  doctrine  of  ex- 
perience.   More  positively  instructive  are  the  objective 
idealisms  which  have  been  the  offspring  of  the  marriage 
between  the  «  reason  "  of  historic  rationalism  and  the 
alleged  immediate  psychical  stuff  of  historic  empiricism. 
These  idealisms  have  recognized  the  genuineness  of  con- 
nexions and  the  impotency  of  «  feeling."    They  have 
then    identified   connexions   with  logical    or    rational 
connexions,  and  thus  treated  « the  real  World  "  as  a 
.  It  is  a  shame  to  devote  the  word  idealism,  with  its  latent 
moral,  practical  connotations,  to  a  doctrine  whose  tenets  are  the 
denial  of  the  existence  of  a  physical  world,  and  the  psyclueal 
character  of  all  objects-at  least  as  far  as  they  are  knowable. 
But  I  am  foUowing  usage,  not  attempting  to  make  it 


A    RECOVERY    OF    PHILOSOPHY  27 

synthesis  of  sentient  consciousness  by  means  of  a  ra- 
tional self-consciousness  introducing  objectivity:  sta- 
bUity  and  universality  of  reference. 

Here  again,  for  present  purposes,  criticism  is  unnec- 
essary.   It  suflices  to  point  out  that  the  value  of  this 
theory  is  bound  up  with  the  genuineness  of  the  problem 
of  which  it  purports  to  be  a  solution.    If  the  basic  con- 
cept is  a  fiction,  there  is  no  call  for  the  solution.    The 
more   important   point   is   to   perceive  how   far   the 
« thought »  which  figures  in  objective  idealism  comes 
from  meeting  the  empirical  demands  made  upon  actual 
thought.     Idealism  is  much  less  formal  than  historic 
rationalism.    It  treats  thought,  or  reason,  as  constitu- 
tive of  experience  by  means  of  uniting  and  constructive 
functions,  not  as  just  concerned  with  a  realm  of  eternal 
truths  apart  from  experience.    On  such  a  view  thought 
certainly  loses  its  abstractness  and  remoteness.     But, 
unfortunately,  in  thus  gaining  the  whole  world  it  loses 
its  own  self.    A  world  already,  in  its  intrinsic  structure, 
dominated  by  thought  is  not  a  world  in  which,  save  by 
contradiction  of  premises,  thinking  has  anythmg  to  do. 
That  the  doctrine  logically  results  in  making  change 
unreal  and  error  unaccountable  are  consequences  of  im- 
portance in  the  technique  of  professional  philosophy; 
in  the  denial  of  empirical  fact  which  they  imply  they 
seem  to  many  a  reductio  ad  absurdum  of  the  premises 
from  which  they  proceed.     But,  after  all    such  conse- 
quences are  of  only  professional  import.    What  is  seri- 
ous, even  sinister,  is  the  implied  sophistication  regard- 
ing the  place  and  ofiice  of  reflection  in  the  scheme  of 
ttoigs.    A  doctrine  which  exalts  thought  in  name  while 


28  CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 

ignoring  its  efficacy  in  fact  (that  is,  its  use  in  bettering 
life)  is  a  doctrine  which  cannot  be  entertained  and 
taught  without  serious  peril.  Those  who  are  not  con- 
cerned with  professional  philosophy  but  who  are  solici- 
tous for  intelligence  as  a  factor  in  the  amelioration  of 
actual  conditions  can  but  look  askance  at  any  doctrine 
which  holds  that  the  entire  scheme  of  things  is  already, 
if  we  but  acquire  the  knack  of  looking  at  it  aright,  fix- 
edly and  completely  rational.  It  is  a  striking  manifes- 
tation of  the  extent  in  which  philosophies  have  been 
compensatory  in  quality.*  But  the  matter  cannot  be 
passed  over  as  if  it  were  simply  a  question  of  not  grudg- 
ing a  certain  amount  of  consolation  to  one  amid  the 
irretrievable  evils  of  life.  For  as  to  these  evils  no 
one  knows  how  many  are  retrievable ;  and  a  philosophy 
which  proclaims  the  ability  of  a  dialectic  theory  of 
knowledge  to  reveal  the  world  as  already  and  eternally 
a  self-luminous  rational  whole,  contaminates  the  scope 
and  use  of  thought  at  its  very  spring.  To  substitute 
the  otiose  insight  gained  by  manipulation  of  a  formula 
for  the  slow  cooperative  work  of  a  humanity  guided  by 
reflective  intelligence  is  more  than  a  technical  blunder 
of  speculative  philosophers. 

A  practical  crisis  may  throw  the  relationship  of  ideas 
to  life  into  an  exaggerated  Brockcn-like  spectral  relief, 
where  exaggeration  renders  perceptible  features  not 
ordinarily  noted.  The  use  of  force  to  secure  narrow 
because  exclusive  aims  is  no  novelty  in  human  affairs. 
The  deploying  of  all  the  intelligence  at  command  in 
order  to  increase  the  effectiveness  of  the  force  used  is 

•  See  Dr.  Kallen's  essay,  below. 


A    RECOVERY    OF    PHILOSOPHY 


d9 


not  so  common,  yet  presents  nothing  mtrinsically  re- 
markable.    The  identification  of  force-military,  eco- 
nomic, and  administrative-with  moral  necessity  and 
moral  culture  is,  however,  a  phenomenon  not  likely  to 
exhibit  itself  on  a  wide  scale  except  where  mtelligence 
has  already  been  suborned  by  an  idealism  winch  iden- 
tifies  "  the  actual  with  the  rational,"  and  thus  finds 
the  measure  of  reason  in  the  brute  event  determined  by 
superior  force.     If  we  are  to  have  a  P^^^o-phy  w^^^^ 
wUl  intervene  between  attachment  to  rule  of  thumb 
muddling  and  devotion  to  a  systematized  s-bordin-tio^^^ 
of  intelligence  to  preexistent  ends,  it  can  be  found  only 
•n  a  phUosophy  which  finds  the  ultimate  measure  of 
Lui^nce  in  consideration  of  a  desirable  future  and 
n  search  for  the  means  of  bringing  it  P-g-s^^ 
into  existence.     When  professed  idealism  turns  out  to 
be  a  narrow  pragmatism-narrow  ^-<^,^^l'  '^^^^^^^^ 
granted  the  finality   of   ends  determined  by  historic 
conditions-the  time  has   arrived  for   a  pragmatism 
wl -ch    shall    be    empirically    idealistic,    proc^aimm^^^ 
the  essential   connexion   of  intellig-ce  with  the   un 
achieved  future-with  possibilities  involving  a  trani 
figuration. 


IV 


Why  has  the  description  of  expenence  been  so  re 
„.ote  from  the  facts  of  empirical  situations?    To  an- 
:;:;  this  question  throws  light  upon  the  submer  jn  e 

of  recent  phUosophizing  in  ^P-^-f  ^y-*^,^^;;;  ^ 
discussions  of  the  nature,  possibility,  and  limits  of 
tZZ  in  general,  and  in  the  attempt  to  reach  con- 


i 


80  CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 

elusions  regarding  the  ultimate  nature  of  reality  from 
the  answers  given  to  such  questions. 

The  reply  to  the  query  regarding  the  currency  of  a 
non-empirical  doctrine  of  experience  (even  among  pro- 
fessed empiricists)  is  that  the  traditional  account  is 
derived  from  a  conception  once  universally  entertained 
regarding  the  subject  or  bearer  or  center  of  experi- 
ence. The  description  of  experience  has  been  forced 
into  conformity  with  this  prior  conception ;  it  has  been 
primarily  a  deduction  from  it,  actual  empirical  facts 
being  poured  into  the  moulds  of  the  deductions.  The 
characteristic  feature  of  this  prior  notion  is  the  as- 
sumption that  experience  centers  in,  or  gathers  about, 
or  proceeds  from  a  center  or  subject  which  is  outside 
the  course  of  natural  existence,  and  set  over  against 
it :— it  being  of  no  importance,  for  present  purposes, 
whether  this  antithetical  subject  is  termed  soul,  or 
spirit,  or  mind,  or  ego,  or  consciousness,  or  just  knower 
or  knowing  subject. 

There  are  plausible  grounds  for  thinking  that  the 
currency  of  the  idea  in  question  lies  in  the  form  which 
men's  religious  preoccupations  took  for  many  centuries. 
These  were  deliberately  and  systematically  other- 
worldly. They  centered  about  a  Fall  which  was  not  an 
event  in  nature,  but  an  aboriginal  catastrophe  that 
corrupted  Nature;  about  a  redemption  made  possible 
by  supernatural  means ;  about  a  life  in  another  world — 
essentially,  not  merely  spatially,  Other.  The  supreme 
drama  of  destiny  took  place  in  a  soul  or  spirit  which, 
under  the  circumstances,  could  not  be  conceived  other 
than   as  non-natural — extra-natural,  if  not,  strictly 


A    RECOVERY    OF    PHILOSOPHY 


SI 


speaking,  supernatural.  When  Descartes  and  others 
broke  away  from  medieval  interests,  they  retained  as 
commonplaces  its  intellectual  apparatus:  Such  as, 
knowledge  is  exercised  by  a  power  that  is  extra-natural 
and  set  over  against  the  world  to  be  known.  Even  if 
they  had  wished  to  make  a  complete  break,  they  had 
nothing  to  put  as  knower  in  the  place  of  the  soul.  It 
may  be  doubted  whether  there  was  any  available  em- 
pirical substitute  until  science  worked  out  the  fact  that 
physical  changes  are  functional  correlations  of  ener- 
gies, and  that  man  is  continuous  with  other  forms  of 
life,  and  until  social  life  had  developed  an  intellectually 
free  and  responsible  individual  as  its  agent. 

But  my  main  point  is  not  dependent  upon  any  partic- 
ular theory  as  to  the  historic  origin  of  the  notion  about 
the  bearer  of  experience.  The  point  is  there  on  its 
own  account.  The  essential  thing  is  that  the  bearer 
was  conceived  as  outside  of  the  world ;  so  that  experi- 
ence consisted  in  the  bearer's  being  affected  through  a 
type  of  operations  not  found  anywhere  in  the  world, 
while  knowledge  consists  in  surveying  the  world,  look- 
ing at  it,  getting  the  view  of  a  spectator. 

The  theological  problem  of  attaining  knowledge  of 
God  as  ultimate  reality  was  transformed  in  effect  into 
the  philosophical  problem  of  the  possibility  of  attain- 
ing knowledge  of  reality.  For  how  is  one  to  get  beyond 
the  Hmits  of  the  subject  and  subjective  occurrences? 
Familiarity  breeds  credulity  oftener  than  contempt. 
How  can  a  problem  be  artificial  when  men  have  been 
busy  discussing  it  almost  for  three  hundred  years? 
But  if  the  assumption  that  experience  is  something  set 


9S 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


i 


I 


over  against  the  world  is  contrary  to  fact,  then  the 
problem  of  how  self  or  mind  or  subjective  experience 
or  consciousness  can  reach  knowledge  of  an  external 
world  is  assuredly  a  meaningless  problem.  Whatever 
questions  there  may  be  about  knowledge,  they  will  not 
be  the  kind  of  problems  which  have  formed  episte- 

mology. 

The  problem  of  knowledge  as  conceived  in  the  indus- 
try of  epistemology  is  the  problem  of  knowledge  in 
general — of   the   possibility,   extent,    and   validity    of 
knowledge  in  general.     What  does  this  "  in  general " 
mean  ?    In  ordinary  life  there  are  problems  a-plenty  of 
knowledge  in  particular;  every  conclusion  we  try  to 
reach,  theoretical  or  practical,  affords  such  a  problem. 
But  there  is  no  problem  of  knowledge  in  general.    I  do 
not  mean,  of  course,  that  general  statements  cannot 
be  made  about  knowledge,  or  that  the  problem  of  at- 
taining these  general  statements  is  not  a  genuine  one. 
On  the  contrary,  specific  instances  of  success  and  fail- 
ure in  inquiry  exist,  and  are  of  such  a  character  that 
one  can  discover  the  conditions  conducing  to  success 
and  failure.    Statement  of  these  conditions  constitutes 
logic,  and  is   capable  of  being  an  important  aid  in 
proper  guidance  of  further  attempts  at  knowing.     But 
this  logical  problem  of  knowledge  is  at  the  opposite 
pole  from  the  epistemological.     Specific  problems  are 
about  right  conclusions  to  be  reached — ^which  means, 
in   effect,    right    ways    of   going    about   the    business 
of  inquiry.     They  imply  a  difference  between  knowl- 
edge  and   error   consequent   upon    right   and   wrong 
methods  of  inquiry  and  testing;  not  a  difference  between 


A    RECOVERY    OF    PHILOSOPHY 


SS 


experience  and  the  world.  The  problem  of  knowledge 
uberhaupt  exists  because  it  is  assumed  that  there  is  a 
knower  in  general,  who  is  outside  of  the  world  to  be 
known,  and  who  is  defined  in  terms  antithetical  to 
the  traits  of  the  world.  With  analogous  assumptions, 
we  could  invent  and  discuss  a  problem  of  digestion  in 
generaL  All  that  would  be  required  would  be  to  con- 
ceive the  stomach  and  food-material  as  mhabitmg  dif- 
ferent worlds.  Such  an  assumption  would  leave  on  our 
hands  the  question  of  the  possibility,  extent,  nature 
and  genuineness  of  any  transaction  between  stomach 

and  food.  ,  .  ,    i .. 

But  because  the  stomach  and  food  inhabit  a  con- 
tinuous stretch  of  existence,  because  digestion  is  but 
a  correlation  of  diverse  activities  in  one  ^orld.  the 
problems  of  digestion  are  specific  and  plural:    What 
are  the  particular  correlations  which  constitute  it? 
How  does  it  proceed  in  different  situations?    What  is 
favorable  and  what  unfavorable  to  its  best  perform- 
ance?-and  so  on.     Can  one  deny  that  if  we  were  to 
take  our  clue  from  the  present  empirical  situation,  in- 
cluding the  scientific  notion  of  evolution   (biological 
continuity)  and  the  existing  arts  of  control  of  nature, 
subject  and  object  would  be  treated  as  occupymg  the 
same  natural  world  as  unhesitatingly  as  we  assume  the 
natural  conjunction  of  an  animal  and  its  food?  Would 
it  not  follow  that  knowledge  is  one  way  in  which  nat- 
ural energies  cooperate?    Would  there  be  any  problem 
save  discovery  of  the  peculiar  structure  of  this  coopera- 
tion, the  conditions  under  which  it  occurs  to  best  effect, 
and  the  consequences  which  issue  from  its  occurrence? 


I 


34 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


It  is  a  commonplace  that  the  chief  divisions  of  mod- 
em philosophy,  idealism  in  its  different  kinds,  realisms 
of  various  brands,  so-called  common-sense  dualism,  ag- 
nosticism, relativism,  phenomenalism,  have  grown  up 
around  the  epistemological  problem  of  the  general  re- 
lation of  subject  and  object.  Problems  not  openly 
epistemological,  such  as  whether  the  relation  of  changes 
in  consciousness  to  physical  changes  is  one  of  inter- 
action, parallelism,  or  automatism  have  the  same  origin. 
What  becomes  of  philosophy,  consisting  largely  as 
it  does  of  different  answers  to  these  questions,  in  case 
the  assumptions  which  generate  the  questions  have  no 
empirical  standing?  Is  it  not  time  that  philosophers 
turned  from  the  attempt  to  determine  the  comparative 
merits  of  various  replies  to  the  questions  to  a  consid- 
eration of  the  claims  of  the  questions? 

When  dominating  religious  ideas  were  built  up  about 
the  idea  that  the  self  is  a  stranger  and  pilgrim  in  this 
world;  when  morals,  falling  in  line,  found  true  good 
only  in  inner  states  of  a  self  inaccessible  to  anything 
but  its  own  private  introspection ;  when  political  theory 
assumed  the  finality  of  disconnected  and  mutually  ex- 
clusive personalities,  the  notion  that  the  bearer  of  ex- 
perience is  antithetical  to  the  world  instead  of  being 
in  and  of  it  was  congenial.  It  at  least  had  the  warrant 
of  other  beliefs  and  aspirations.  But  the  doctrine  of 
biological  continuity  or  organic  evolution  has  de- 
stroyed the  scientific  basis  of  the  conception.  Morally, 
men  are  now  concerned  with  the  amelioration  of  the 
conditions  of  the  common  lot  in  this  world.  Social 
sciences  recognize  that  associated  life  is  not  a  matter 


A    RECOVERY    OF    PHILOSOPHY  35 

of  physical  juxtaposition,  but  of  genuine  intercourse— 
of  community  of  experience  in  a  non-metaphorical  sense 
of  community.  Why  should  we  longer  try  to  patch 
up  and  refine  and  stretch  the  old  solutions  tUl  they 
seem  to  cover  the  change  of  thought  and  practice? 
Why  not  recognize  that  the  trouble  is  with  the  prob- 
lem? 

A  belief  in  organic  evolution  which  does  not  extend 
unreservedly  to  the  way  in  which  the  subject  of  expe- 
rience is  thought  of,  and  which  does  not  strive  to  bring 
the  entire  theory  of  experience  and  knowing  into  hne 
with  biological  and  social  facts,  is  hardly  more  than 
Pickwickian.    There  are  many,  for  example,  who  hold 
that  dreams,  hallucinations,  and  errors  cannot  be  ac- 
counted for  at  all  except  on  the  theory  that  a  self  (or 
"  consciousness  ")  exercises  a  modifying  influence  upon 
the  "real  object."     The  logical  assumption  is  that 
consciousness  is  outside  of  the  real  object;  that  it  is 
something  different  in  kind,  and  therefore  has  the  power 
of  changing  "  reality  "  into  appearance,  of  introducmg 
»  relativities  "  into  things  as  they  are  in  themselves— 
in  short,  of  infecting  real  things  with  subjectivity. 
Such  writers  seem  unaware  of  the  fact  that  this  as- 
sumption makes  consciousness  supernatural  in  the  lit- 
eral sense  of  the  word;  and  that,  to  say  the  least, 
the  conception  can  be  accepted  by  one  who  accepts 
the  doctrine  of  biological  continuity  only  after  every 
other  way   of  dealing  with  the   facts   has  been  ex- 
hausted. 

Realists,   of   course    (at   least   some   of   the   Neo- 
realists),  deny  any  such  miraculous  intervention  of 


I* 


86  CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 

consciousness.  But  they*  admit  the  reality  of  the 
problem;  denying  only  this  particular  solution,  they 
try  to  find  some  other  way  out,  which  will  still  pre- 
serve intact  the  notion  of  knowledge  as  a  relationship 
of  a  general  sort  between  subject  and  object. 

Now  dreams  and  hallucinations,  errors,  pleasures, 
and  pains,  possibly  "  secondary  "  qualities,  do  not  oc- 
cur save  where  there  are  organic  centers  of  experience. 
They  cluster  about  a  subject.  But  to  treat  them  as 
things  which  inhere  exclusively  in  the  subject;  or  as 
posing  the  problem  of  a  distortion  of  the  real  object 
by  a  knower  set  over  against  the  world,  or  as  presenting 
facts  to  be  explained  primarily  as  cases  of  contempla- 
tive knowledge,  is  to  testify  that  one  has  still  to  learn 
the  lesson  of  evolution  in  its  application  to  the  affairs 

in  hand. 

If  biological  development  be  accepted,  the  subject 
of  experience  is  at  least  an  animal,  continuous  with 
other  organic  forms  in  a  process  of  more  complex 
organization.  An  animal  in  turn  is  at  least  con- 
tinuous with  chemico-physical  processes  which,  in  liv- 
ing things,  are  so  organized  as  really  to  constitute  the 
activities  of  life  with  all  their  defining  traits.  And 
experience  is  not  identical  with  brain  action;  it  is 
the  entire  organic  agent-patient  in  all  its  inter- 
action with  the  environment,  natural  and  social.  The 
brain  is  primarily  an  organ  of  a  certain  kind  of  be- 
havior, not  of   knowing  the   world.      And   to   repeat 

♦  The  "  they  "  means  the  "  some  "  of  the  prior  sentence— those 
whose  realism  is  epistemological,  instead  of  being  a  plea  for 
taking  the  facts  of  experience  as  we  find  them  without  refraction 
through  epistemological  apparatus. 


A    EECOVERY    OF    PHILOSOPHY 


«7 


what   has    already  been    said,    expenencing    .,    just 
certain  modes  of  interaction,  of  correlation,  of  natur^ 
obiects  among  which  the  organism  happens,  so  to  say. 
to  be  one.    It  foUows  with  equal  force  that  experience 
means  primarily  not  knowledge,  but  ways  of  domg  and 
Tuffering.    Knowing  must  be  described  by  dxscovermg 
what  particular  mode-qualitatively  umque-of  domg 
and  suffering  it  is.    As  it  is.  we  find  experience  assimi- 
Tated  to  a  non-empirical  concept  of  knowledge,  derived 
from  an  antecedent  notion  of  a  spectator  outside  of 

Jlort,  the  epistemological  fashion  of  conceiving 
dreams,  errors,  "  relativities,"  etc.    depends  upon  the 
isolation  of  mind  from  intimate  participation  with  other 
changes  in  the  same  continuous  nexus.    Thus      is  like 
contending  that  when  a  bottle  bursts,  the  bottle  is.  m 
some   self Wained  miraculous   way    exclusively   re- 
sponsible.    Since  it  is  the  nature  of  a  bottle  to  1^ 
whole  so  as  to  retain  fluids,  burstmg  is  an  abnormal 
Tvent-^omparable  to  an  hallucination.    Hence  it  con- 
noT belong  to  the  "real"  bottle;  the  "subjectivity 

"  MtlltesUn^  .  note  .a.  -eo^ ----=: 
assimilated   the  cognitive   rela Uon    o   other  ex  stent  ^^^^_ 

in  the  world  (instead  of  *7»*'"8  't  "^  "^^heir  conception 

logical  relation)  ^-^ZS:£"^^'^or'^  affair  to'  ex- 
of  knowledge  as  a     presentative     or    p  ^ 

tend  the  defining  features  "^  *«  '"J^^j*"  ^  ,  ,„  the  world 
things,  and  hence  to  make  all  U,e  'f  ™  8j^„  go  con- 
pure  "simples."  wholly  '"'•^'^"'^•^""/""LTto  be  rather  the 
Lived  the  doctrine  of  «»""»',. ''•^''f'^^Pr  Aside  from  this 
doctrine  of  ^^^  ^;:^:S^ ,^ ^ZeJ^  ^^^  -^ 
rTJ^r.:.S^T^f  a—d  premises,  rather  than 
InvL^ing  on  account  of  empirical  evidence  supportmg  it 


38 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


of  glass  IS  the  cause.  It  is  obvious  that  since  the  break- 
ing of  glass  is  a  case  of  specific  correlation  of  natural 
energies,  its  accidental  and  abnormal  character  has 
to  do  with  consequences,  not  with  causation.  Accident 
is  interference  with  the  consequences  for  which  the  bot- 
tle is  intended.  The  bursting  considered  apart  from 
its  bearing  on  these  consequences  is  on  a  plane  with  any 
other  occurrence  in  the  wide  world.  But  from  the 
standpoint  of  a  desired  future,  bursting  is  an  anomaly, 
an  interruption  of  the  course  of  events. 

The  analogy  with  the  occurrence  of  dreams,  hallu- 
cinations, etc.,  seems  to  me  exact.     Dreams  are  not 
something  outside  of  the  regular  course  of  events ;  they 
are  in  and  of  it.     They  are  not  cognitive  distortions 
of  real  things;  they  are  more  real  things.     There  is 
nothing  abnormal  in  their  existence,  any  more  than 
there  is  in  the  bursting  of  a  bottle.*     But  they  may 
be  abnormal,  from  the  standpoint  of  their  influence,  of 
their  operation  as  stimuli  in  calling  out  responses  to 
modify  the  future.     Dreams  have  often  been  taken  as 
prognostics  of  what  is  to  happen ;  they  have  modified 
conduct.     A  hallucination  may  lead  a  man  to  consult 
a  doctor ;  such  a  consequence  is  right  and  proper.    But 
the  consultation  indicates  that  the  subject  regarded 
it  as  an  indication  of  consequences  which  he  feared: 
as  a  symptom  of  a  disturbed  life.    Or  the  hallucination 
may  lead  him  to  anticipate  consequences  which  in  fact 
flow  only  from  the  possession  of  great  wealth.     Then 

•  In  other  words,  there  is  a  general  •*  problem  of  error "  only 
because  there  is  a  general  problem  of  evil,  concerning  which  see 
Dr.  Kallen's  essay,  below. 


A    RECOVERY    OF    PHILOSOPHY  39 

the  hallucination  is  a  disturbance  of  the  normal  course 
of  events ;  the  occurrence  is  wrongly  used  with  refer- 
ence to  eventualities.  _ 

To   regard   reference   to   use   and  to  desired   and 
intended   consequences    as   involving   a   "subjective" 
factor  is  to  miss  the  point,  for  this  has  regard  to 
the  future.     The  uses  to  which  a  bottle  are  put  are 
not  mental;  they  do  not  consist  of  physical  states; 
they   are  further  correlations   of  natural  existences. 
Consequences    in    use    are    genuine    natural    events; 
but  they  do  not  occur  without  the  intervention  of 
behavior    involving    anticipation    of    a    futur^     The 
case  is  not  otherwise  with  an  hallucination.    The  dif- 
ferences it  makes  are  in  any  case  differences  in  the 
course  of  the  one  continuous  world.     The  important 
point  is  whether  they  are  good  or  bad  differences. 
To  use  the  hallucination  as  a  sign  of  organic  lesions 
that  menace  health  means  the  beneficial  result  of  see- 
ing a  physician;  to  respond  to  it  as  a  sign  of  con- 
sequences  such   as   actually  follow  only   from  being 
persecuted  is  to  fall  into  error-to  be  abnormal.    The 
persecutors  are  «  unreal " ;  that  is,  there  are  no  things 
which  act  as  persecutors  act;  but  the  hallucmation 
exists.     Given  its  conditions  it  is  as  natural  as  any 
other  event,  and  poses  only  the  same  kind  of  problem 
as  is  put  by  the  occurrence  of,  say,  a  thunderstorm. 
The  "unreality"  of  persecution  is  not,  however,  a 
subjective  matter ;  it  means  that  conditions  do  not  exist 
for  producing  the  future  consequences  which  are  now 
anticipated  and  reacted  to.    Ability  to  anticipate  fu- 
ture consequences  and  to  respond  to  them  as  stimuli  to 


40  CREATIVE   INTELLIGENCE 

present  behavior  may  well  define  what  is  meant  by  a 
mind  or  by  "  consciousness."  *  But  this  is  only  a  way 
of  saying  just  what  kind  of  a  real  or  natural  existence 
the  subject  is;  it  is  not  to  fall  back  on  a  preconception 
about  an  unnatural  subject  in  order  to  characterize 
the  occurrence  of  error. 

Although  the  discussion  may  be  already  labored,  let 
us  take  another  example — the  occurrence  of  disease. 
By  definition  it  is  pathological,  abnormal.    At  one  time 
in  human  history  this  abnormality  was  taken  to  be 
something  dwelling  in  the  intrinsic  nature  of  the  event — 
in   its   existence   irrespective   of   future   consequences. 
Disease  was  literally  extra-natural  and  to  be  referred 
to  demons  or  to  magic.     No  one  to-day  questions  its 
naturalness — its  place  in  the  order  of  natural  events. 
Yet  it  is  abnormal — for  it  operates  to  effect  results 
different  from  those  which  follow  from  health.     The 
difference  is  a  genuine  empirical  difference,  not  a  mere 
mental  distinction.     From  the  standpoint  of  bearing 
on  a  subsequent  course  of  events  disease  is  unnatural, 
in  spite  of  the  naturalness  of  its  occurrence  and  origin. 
The  habit  of  ignoring  reference  to   the  future   is 
responsible  for  the  assumption  that  to  admit  human  par- 
ticipation in  any  form  is  to  admit  the  "  subjective  "  in 
a  sense  which  alters  the  objective  into  the  phenomenal. 
There  have  been  those  who,  like   Spinoza,  regarded 
health  and  disease,  good  and  ill,  as  equally  real  and 
equally  unreal.    However,  only  a  few  consistent  mate- 
rialists have  included  truth  along  with  error  as  merely 
phenomenal  and  subjective.     But  if  one  does  not  re- 
•  Compare  the  paper  by  Professor  Bode. 


A    RECOVERY    OF    PHILOSOPHY 


41 


gard  movement  toward  possible  consequences  as  gen- 
uine, wholesale  denial  of  existential  validity  to  all  these 
distinctions  is  the  only  logical  course.    To  select  truth 
as  objective  and  error  as  "subjective"  is,  on  this 
basis,  an  unjustifiably  partial  procedure.    Take  every- 
thing as  fixedly  given,  and  both  truth  and  error  are 
arbitrary  insertions  into  fact.    Admit  the  genuineness 
of  changes  going  on,  and  capacity  for  its  direction 
through  organic  action  based  on  foresight,  and  both 
truth  and  falsity  are  alike  existential.    It  is  human  to 
regard  the  course  of  events  which  is  in  line  with  our 
own  efforts  as  the  regular  course  of  events,  and  inter- 
ruptions  as  abnormal,  but  this  partiality  of  human 
desire  is  itself  a  part  of  what  actually  takes  place. 
It  is  now  proposed  to  take  a  particular  case  of  the 
alleged  epistemological  predicament  for  discussion,  since 
the  entire  ground  cannot  be  covered.    I  think,  however, 
the  instance  chosen  is  typical,  so  that  the  conclusion 
reached  may  be  generalized. 

The  instance  is  that  of  so-called  relativity  in  per- 
ception.   There  are  almost  endless  instances ;  the  stick 
bent  in  water ;  the  whistle  changing  pitch  with  change 
of  distance  from  the  ear;  objects  doubled  when  the 
eye  is  pushed ;  the  destroyed  star  still  visible,  etc.,  etc. 
For  our   consideration  we  may  take  the   case   of  a 
spherical  object  that  presents  itself  to  one  observer  as 
a  flat  circle,  to  another  as  a  somewhat  distorted  ellip- 
tical surface.    This  situation  gives  empirical  proof,  so 
it  is  argued,  of  the  difference  between  a  real  object  and 
mere  appearance.     Since  there  is  but  one  object,  the 
existence  of  two  subjects  is  the  sole  differentiating  fac- 


42  CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 

tor.  Hence  the  two  appearances  of  the  one  real  object 
is  proof  of  the  intervening  distorting  action  of  the 
subject.  And  many  of  the  Neo-realists  who  deny  the 
difference  in  question,  admit  the  case  to  be  one  of 
knowledge  and  accordingly  to  constitute  an  epistemo- 
logical  problem.  They  have  in  consequence  developed 
wonderfully  elaborate  schemes  of  sundry  kinds  to  main- 
tain "  epistemological  monism  "  intact. 

Let  us  try  to  keep  close  to  empirical  facts.     In  the 
first  place  the  two  unlike  appearances  of  the  one  sphere 
are  physically  necessary  because  of  the  laws  of  reac- 
tion of  light.    If  the  one  sphere  did  not  assume  these 
two  appearances  under  given  conditions,  we  should  be 
confronted  with  a  hopelessly  irreconcilable  discrepancy 
in  the  behavior  of  natural  energy.    That  the  result  is 
natural  is  evidenced  by  the  fact  that  two  cameras— or 
other  arrangements  of  apparatus  for  reflecting  light- 
yield  precisely  the  same  results.     Photographs  are  as 
genuinely  physical  existences  as  the  original  sphere; 
and  they  exhibit  the  two  geometrical  forms. 

The  statement  of  these  facts  makes  no  impression 
upon  the  confirmed  epistemologist ;  he  merely  retorts 
that  as  long  as  it  is  admitted  that  the  organism  is  the 
cause  of  a  sphere  being  seen,  from  different  points,  as 
a  circular  and  as  an  elliptical  surface,  the  essence  of 
his  contention— the  modification  of  the  real  object  by 
the  subject— is  admitted.  To  the  question  why  the 
same  logic  does  not  apply  to  photographic  records  he 
makes,  as  far  as  I  know,  no  reply  at  all. 

The  source  of  the  difficulty  is  not  hard  to  see.    Tlie 
objection  assumes  that  the  alleged  modifications  of  the 


A    RECOVERY    OF    PHILOSOPHY  4S 

real  object  are  cases  of  knowing  and  hence  attributa- 
ble to  the  influence  of  a  knower.    Statements  which  set 
forth  the  doctrine  will  always  be  found  to  refer  to  the 
organic  factor,  to  the  eye,  as  an  observer  or  a  per- 
cipient.    Even  when  reference  is  made  to  a  lens  or  a 
mirror,  language  is  sometimes  used  which  suggests  that 
the  writer*s  naivete  is  sufficiently  gross  to  treat  these 
physical  factors  as  if  they  were  engaged  in  perceiving 
the  sphere.    But  as  it  is  evident  that  the  lens  operates 
as  a  physical  factor  in  correlation  with  other  physical 
factors— notably  light— so  it  ought  to  be  evident  that 
the  intervention  of  the  optical  apparatus  of  the  eye 
is  a  purely  non-cognitive  matter.    The  relation  in  ques- 
tion is  not  one  between  a  sphere  and  a  would-be  knower 
of  it,  unfortunately  condemned  by  the  nature  of  the 
knowing  apparatus  to  alter  the  thing  he  would  know; 
it  is  an  affair  of  the  dynamic  interaction  of  two  physi- 
cal agents  in  producing  a  third  thing,  an  effect  ;— 
an  affair  of  precisely  the  same  kind  as  in  any  physical 
conjoint  action,  say  the  operation  of  hydrogen  and 
oxygen  in  producing  water.    To  regard  the  eye  as  pri- 
marily a  knower,  an  observer,  of  things,  is  as  crass 
as  to  assign  that  function  to  a  camera.    But  unless  the 
eye  (or  optical  apparatus,  or  brain,  or  organism)  be 
so  regarded,  there  is  absolutely  no  problem  of  observa- 
tion or  of  knowledge  in  the  case  of  the  occurrence  of 
elliptical  and  circular  surfaces.     Knowledge  does  not 
enter  into  the  affair  at  all  till  after  these  forms  of 
refracted  light  have  been  produced.    About  them  there 
is  nothing  unreal.    Light  is  really,  physically,  existen- 
tiaUy,  refracted  into  these  forms.    If  the  same  spheri- 


44  CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 

cal  form  upon  refracting  light  to  physical  objects  in 
two  quite  different  positions  produced  the  same  geomet- 
ric forms,  there  would,  indeed,  be  something  to  mar- 
vel at— as  there  would  be  if  wax  produced  the  same 
results  in  contact  simultaneously  with  a  cold  body  and 
with  a  warm  one.  Why  talk  about  the  real  object  in 
relation  to  a  knower  when  what  is  given  is  one  real  thing 
in  dynamic  connection  with  another  real  thing? 

The  way  of  dealing  with  the  case  will  probably  meet 
with  a  retort ;  at  least,  it  has  done  so  before.  It  has 
been  said  that  the  account  given  above  and  the  ac- 
count of  traditional  subjectivism  differ  only  verbally. 
The  essential  thing  in  both,  so  it  is  said,  is  the  ad- 
mission that  an  activity  of  a  self  or  subject  or  organism 
makes  a  difference  in  the  real  object.  Whether  the  sub- 
ject makes  this  difference  in  the  very  process  of  know- 
ing or  makes  it  prior  to  the  act  of  knowing  is  a  minor 
matter ;  what  is  important  is  that  the  known  thing  has, 
by  the  time  it  is  known,  been  "  subjectified." 

The  objection  gives  a  convenient  occasion  for  sum- 
marizing the  main  points  of  the  argument.     On  the 
one  hand,  the  retort  of  the  objector  depends  upon  talk- 
ing about  the  real  object.    Employ  the  term  "  a  real 
object,"  and  the  change  produced  by  the  activity  char- 
acteristic of  the  optical  apparatus  is  of  just  the  same 
kind  as  that  of  the  camera  lens  or  that  of  any  other 
physical  agency.     Every  event  in  the  world  marks  a 
difference  made  to  one  existence  in  active  conjunction 
with  some  other  existence.     And,  as  for  the  alleged 
subjectivity,  if  subjective  is  used  merely  as  an  adjec- 
tive to  designate  the  specific  activity  of  a  particular 


A   RECOVERY    OF    PHILOSOPHY  4S 

existence,  comparable,  say,  to  the  term  feral,  applied 
trtiger.  or  metallic,  applied  to  iron,  then  of  course 
^fe  e^c:  to  subjective  is  legitimate.  But  .t  .s  also  tau- 
tological.   It  is  like  saying  that  flesh  eaters  are  car- 
nivorous.   But  the  term  «  subjective  "  is  so  consecrat  d 
Tier  uses,  usually  implying  invidious  contrast  w.th 
objectivity   (while  subjective  in  the  sense  just     ug 
gested  means  specific  mode  of  objectmty  ,  tha    .t  is 
Lcult  to  maintain  this  innocent  sense.    Its  use  m  any 
disparaging  way  in  the  situation  before  us-any  sense 
impHcating  contrast  with  a  real  object-assumes  that 
r tganL  ouyht  not  to  make  any  difference  when 
it  operates  in  conjunction  with  other  t^"g-     ^hu 
we  run  to  earth  that  assumption  that  the  subject    s 
homogeneous  from  every  other  natural  existence;  .t 
Tto  S  the  one  otiose,  inoperative  thing  m  a  moving 
worW-our  old  assumption  of  the  self  as  outside  of 

*Wha*t  and  where  is  knowledge  in  the  case  we  have 
been  considering?    Not.  as  we  have  already  seen,  m   h 
production  of  forms  of  light  havmg  a  circular  and  ellip 
Lai  surface.     These  forms  are  natural  happemng  • 
They  may  enter  into  knowledge  or  they  may  not.  a.- 
JrLs  to  circumstances.     Countless  such  refractive 

«..„«  else.  It  is  h^d  «.at  „o  u«  ^^^^IJ,^^  ^,  «. 
l:rZ  'oT^fpSe^'ld  to  foUow  the  lead  of  e^piHcU 
fiubjcct-mattcr. 


46 


CREATIVE   INTELLIGENCE 


:•  ♦ 


changes  take  place  without  being  noted.*    When  they 
become  subject-matter  for  knowledge,  the  inquirj^  they 
set  on  foot  may  take  on  an  indefinite  variety  of  forms. 
One  may  be  interested  in  ascertaining  more  about  the 
structural  peculiarities  of  the  forms  themselves;  one 
may  be  interested  in  the  mechanism  of  their  produc- 
tion; one  may  find  problems  in  projective  geometry, 
or  in  drawing  and  painting — all  depending  upon  the 
specific  matter-of-fact   context.     The   forms  may  be 
objectives  of  knowledge — of  reflective  examination — or 
they  may  be  means  of  knowing  something  else.    It  may 
happen — under  some  circumstances  it  does  happen — 
that  the  objective  of  inquiry  is  the  nature  of  the  geo- 
metric form  which,  when  refracting  light,  gives  rise  to 
these  other  forms.    In  this  case  the  sphere  is  the  thing 
known,  and  in  this  case,  the  forms  of  light  are  signs 
or  evidence  of  the  conclusion  to  be  drawn.    There  is  no 
more  reason  for  supposing  that  they  are  (mis) knowl- 
edges  of  the  sphere — that   the  sphere   is  necessarily 
and  from  the  start  what  one  is  trying  to  know — than 
for  supposing  that  the  position  of  the  mercury  in  the 
thermometer  tube  is  a  cognitive  distortion  of  atmos- 
pheric pressure.     In  each  case  (that  of  the  mercury 
and  that  of,  say,  a  circular  surface)  the  primary  datum 
is  a  physical  happening.    In  each  case  it  may  be  used, 
upon  occasion,  as  a  sign  or  evidence  of  the  nature  of 

♦There  is  almost  no  end  to  the  various  dialectic  developments 
of  the  epistemological  situation.  When  it  is  held  that  all  the 
relations  of  the  type  in  question  are  cognitive,  and  yet  it  is  recog- 
nized (as  it  must  be)  that  many  such  "transformations"  go 
unremarked,  the  theory  is  supplemented  by  introducing  "uncon- 
scious" psychical  modifications. 


A    RECOVERY    OF    PHILOSOPHY  47 

the  causes  which  brought  it  about.  Given  the  position 
in  question,  the  circular  form  would  be  an  intrinsically 
unreliable  evidence  of  the  nature  and  position  of  the 
spherical  body  only  in  case  it,  as  the  direct  datum  of 
perception,  were  not  what  it  is— a  circular  form. 

I  confess  that  aU  this  seems  so  obvious  that  the 
reader  is  entitled  to  inquire  into  the  motive  for  reciting 
such  plain  facts.     Were  it  not  for  the  persistence  of 
the  epistemological  problem  it  would  be  an  affront  to 
the  reader's  intelligence  to  dweU  upon  them.     But  as 
long  as  such  facts  as  we  have  been  discussing  furnish 
the  subject-matter  with  which  philosophizing  is  pecu- 
liarly concerned,  these  commonplaces  must  be  urged  and 
reiterated.     They  bear  out  two  contentions  which  are 
important  at  the  juncture,  although  they  will  lose  spe- 
cial significance  as  soon  as  these  are  habitually  recog- 
nized:    Negatively,  a  prior  and  non-empirical  notion 
of  the  self  is  the  source  of  the  prevailing  belief  that  ex- 
perience as  such  is  primarily  cognitional— a  knowledge 
affair ;  positively,  knowledge  is  always  a  matter  of  the 
use  that  is  made  of  experienced  natural  events,  a  use 
in    which    given    things    are    treated    as    indications 
of   what   will   be   experienced   under   different   condi- 
tions. 

Let  us  make  one  effort  more  to  clear  up  these  pomts. 
Suppose  it  is  a  question  of  knowledge  of  water.  The 
thing  to  be  known  does  not  present  itself  primarily  as 
a  matter  of  knowledge-and-ignorance  at  all.  It  oc- 
curs as  a  stimulus  to  action  and  as  the  source  of  certain 
undergoings.  It  is  something  to  react  to:— to  drink, 
to  wash  with,  to  put  out  fire  with,  and  also  something 


•/ 


(  i 


48 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


that  reacts  unexpectedly  to  our  reactions,  that  makes 
us  undergo  disease,  suffocation,  drowning.  In  this  two- 
fold way,  water  or  anything  else  enters  into  experience. 
Such  presence  in  experience  has  of  itself  nothing  to  do 
with  knowledge  or  consciousness ;  nothing  that  is  in  the 
sense  of  depending  upon  them,  though  it  has  everything 
to  do  with  knowledge  and  consciousness  in  the  sense 
that  the  latter  depends  upon  prior  experience  of  this 
non-cognitive  sort.  Man's  experience  is  what  it  is  be- 
cause his  response  to  things  (even  successful  response) 
and  the  reactions  of  things  to  his  life,  are  so  radically 
different  from  knowledge.  The  difficulties  and  trage- 
dies of  life,  the  stimuli  to  acquiring  knowledge,  lie 
in  the  radical  disparity  of  presence-in-experience  and 
presence-in-knowing.  Yet  the  immense  importance  of 
knowledge  experience,  the  fact  that  turning  presence- 
in-experience  over  into  presence-in-a-knowledge-experi- 
ence  is  the  sole  mode  of  control  of  nature,  has  syste- 
matically hypnotized  European  philosophy  since  the 
time  of  Socrates  into  thinking  that  all  experiencing  is 
a  mode  of  knowing,  if  not  good  knowledge,  then  a  low- 
grade  or  confused  or  implicit  knowledge. 

When  water  is  an  adequate  stimulus  to  action  or 
when  its  reactions  oppress  and  overwhelm  us,  it  re- 
mains outside  the  scope  of  knowledge.  When,  however, 
the  bare  presence  of  the  thing  (say,  as  optical  stimulus) 
ceases  to  operate  directly  as  stimulus  to  response  and 
begins  to  operate  in  connection  with  a  forecast  of  the 
consequences  it  will  effect  when  responded  to,  it  begins 
to  acquire  meaning — to  be  known,  to  be  an  object.  It 
is  noted  as  something  which  is  wet,  fluid,  satisfies  thirst, 


A    RECOVERY    OF    PHILOSOPHY  49 

allays  uneasiness,  etc.     The  conception  that  we  begin 
with  a  known  visual  quality  which  is  thereafter  en- 
larged by  adding  on  qualities  apprehended  by  the  other 
senses  does  not  rest  upon  experience;  it  rests  upon 
making  experience  conform  to  the  notion  that  every 
expei^ence  must  be  a  cognitive  noting.    As  long  as  the 
visual  stimulus  operates  as  a  stimulus  on  its  own  ac- 
count, there  is  no  apprehension,  no  noting,  of  color  or 
light  at  all.     To  much  the  greater  portion  of  sensory 
stimuli  we  react  in  precisely  this  wholly  non-cognitive 
way.     In  the  attitude  of  suspended  response  in  which 
consequences  are  anticipated,  the  direct  stimulus  be- 
comes a  sign  or  index  of  something  else— and  thus  mat- 
ter  of  noting   or   apprehension   or   acquaintance,  or 
whatever  term  may  be  employed.    This  difference  (to- 
gether, of  course,  with  the  consequences  which  go  with 
it)    is    the    difference    which    the    natural    event    of 
knowing  makes  to  the  natural  event  of  direct  organic 
stimulation.     It  is   no   change   of   a  reality  into   an 
unreality,  of  an  object  into  something  subjective;  it 
is  no  secret,  illicit,  or  epistemological  transformation; 
it  is  a  genuine  acquisition  of  new  and  distinctive  fea- 
tures through  entering  into  relations  with  things  with 
which  it  was  not  formerly  connected— namely,  possible 

and  future  things. 

But,  replies  some  one  so  obsessed  with  the  epistemo- 
logical point  of  view  that  he  assumes  that  the  prior 
account  is  a  rival  epistemology  in  disguise,  all  this  in- 
volves no  change  in  Reality,  no  difference  made  to 
Reality.  Water  was  all  the  time  all  the  things  it  is 
ever  found  out  to  be.    Its  real  nature  has  not  been  al- 


50  CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 

tered  by  knowing  it ;  any  such  alteration  means  a  mis- 
knowing. 

In  reply  let  it  be  said, — once  more  and  finally, — 
there  is  no  assertion  or  implication  about  the  real 
object  or  the  real  world  or  the  reality.  Such  an  as- 
sumption goes  with  that  epistemological  univ^se  of 
discourse  which  has  to  be  abandoned  in  an  empirical 
universe  of  discourse.  The  change  is  of  a  real  object. 
An  incident  of  the  world  operating  as  a  physiologically 
direct  stimulus  is  assuredly  a  reality.  Responded  to, 
it  produces  specific  consequences  in  virtue  of  the  re- 
sponse. Water  is  not  drunk  unless  somebody  drinks  it ; 
it  does  not  quench  thirst  unless  a  thirsty  person  drinks 

it and  so  on.     Consequences  occur  whether  one  is 

aware  of  them  or  not ;  they  are  integral  facts  in  experi- 
ence. But  let  one  of  these  consequences  be  anticipated 
and  let  it,  as  anticipated,  become  an  indispensable 
element  in  the  stimulus,  and  then  there  is  a  known 
object.  It  is  not  that  knowing  produces  a  change, 
but  that  it  is  a  change  of  the  specific  kind  described. 
A  serial  process,  the  successive  portions  of  which  are 
as  such  incapable  of  simultaneous  occurrence,  is  tele- 
scoped and  condensed  into  an  object,  a  unified  inter- 
reference  of  contemporaneous  properties,  most  of 
which    express    potentialities    rather    than    completed 

data. 

Because  of  this  change,  an  object  possesses  truth  or 
error  (which  the  physical  occurrence  as  such  never 
has)  ;  it  is  classifiable  as  fact  or  fantasy ;  it  is  of  a  sort 
or  kind,  expresses  an  essence  or  nature,  possesses  im- 
plications, etc.,  etc.    That  is  to  say,  it  is  marked  by 


A    RECOVERY    OF    PHILOSOPHY  51 

specifiable  logical  traits  not  found  in  physical  occur- 
rences  as  such.    Because  objective  idealisms  have  seized 
upon  these  traits  as  constituting  the  very  essence  of 
Reality  is  no  reason  for  proclaiming  that  they  are 
ready-made    features    of    physical    happenings     and 
hence  for  maintaining  that  knowing  is  nothing  but  an 
appearance  of  things  on  a  stage  for  which  "conscious- 
ness "  supplies  the  footlights.     For  only  the  episte- 
mological predicament  leads  to  "  presentations      be- 
ing   regarded    as    cognitions    of    things    which    were 
previously  unpresented.    In  any  empirical  situation  of 
everyday  life  or  of  science,  knowledge  signifies  some- 
thing stated  or  inferred  of  another  thing.    Vi^^We  ^f  ^ 
is  not  a  more  less  erroneous  presentation  of  H.O,  but 
H.0  is  a  knowledge  about  the  thing  we  see,  drink,  wash 
with,  sail  on,  and  use  for  power. 

A  further  point  and  the  present  phase  of  discussion 
terminates.    Treating  knowledge  as  a  presentative  rela- 
tion between  the  knower  and  object  makes  it  necessary 
to  regard  the  mechanism  of  presentation  as  constitut- 
ing  the  act  of  knowing.    Since  things  may  be  presented 
in  sense-perception,    in    recollection,    in    imagmation 
and  in  conception,  and  since  the  mechanism  m  every 
one  of  these  four  styles  of  presentation  is  sensory- 
cerebral  the  problem  of  knowing  becomes  a  mmd-body 
problem.*     The  psychological,  or  physiological,  mech- 
anism   of    presentation    involved    in    seemg    a    chair, 

:rpr ^^troV-  rt^rannx:Sn  .y  Benson.  To  ta.e 
Jgn'anc"  of  L  niktter  would,  of  course,  accentuate,  not  re- 
lieve, the  difficulty  remarked  upon  m  the  text. 


52  CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 

rememberbg  what  I  ate  yesterday  for  luncheon,  imag- 
ining the  moon  the  size  of  a  cart  wheel,  conceiving  a 
mathematical  continuum  is  identified  with  the  operation 
of  knowing.    The  evil  consequences  are  twofold.    The 
problem  of  the  relation  of  mind  and  body  has  become 
a  part  of  the  problem  of  the  possibility  of  knowledge 
in  general,  to  the  further  complication  of  a  matter 
already  hopelessly  constrained.     Meantime  the  actual 
process  of  knowing,  namely,  operations  of  controlled 
observation,  inference,  reasoning,  and  testing,  the  only 
process  with  inteUectual  import,  is  dismissed  as  irrele- 
vant  to   the  theory   of  knowing.     The   methods   of 
knowing  practised  in  daUy  life  and  science  are  ex- 
cluded from  consideration  in  the  philosophical  theory 
of  knowing.     Hence  the  constructions  of  the  latter 
become  more  and  more  elaborately  artificial  because 
there  is  no  definite  check  upon  them.     It  would  be 
easy  to  quote  from  epistemological  writers  statements 
to  the  effect  that  these  processes  (which  supply  the 
only    empirically    verifiable    facts    of    knowing)    are 
merely    inductive    in    character,    or    even    that    they 
are  of  purely  psychological   significance.     It  would 
be  difBcult  to  find  a  more  complete  inversion  of  the 
facts    than    in    the    latter    statement,    since    presen- 
tation constitutes  in  fact  the  psychological  affair.    A 
confusion  of  logic  with  physiological  physiology  has 
bred  hybrid  epistemology,  with  the  amazing  result  that 
the  technique  of  effective  inquiry  is  rendered  irrelevant 
to  the  theory  of  knowing,  and  those  physical  events  in- 
volved in  the  occurrence   of  data   for  knowing  are 
treated  as  if  they  constituted  the  act  of  knowing. 


A    RECOVERY    OF    PHILOSOPHY 


53 


What  are  the  bearings  of  our  discussion  upon  the 
conception  of  the  present  scope  and  office  of  phdoso- 
Bhv"    What  do  our  conclusions  indicate  and  demand 
^th  reference  to  philosophy  itself?    For  the  phUosophy 
which  reaches  such  conclusions  regarding  knowledge  and 
mind   must   apply   them,   sincerely    and   whole-heart- 
edly, to  its  idea  of  its  own  nature.     Fo'  f  J^OP^/ 
claims  to  be  one  form  or  mode  of  knowing.    If,  then,  the 
conclusion  is  reached  that  knowing  is  a  way  of  em- 
ploying empirical  occurrences  with  respect  to  mcreas^ 
L  power  to  direct  the  consequences  which  flow  from 
tWngs,  the  application  of  the  conclusion  must  be  made 
to  philosophy  itself.    It,  too,  becomes  not  a  contempla- 
tive survey  of  existence  nor  an  analysis  of  what  is  past 
and  done  with,  but  an  outlook  upon  future  possAilities 
with  reference  to  attaining  the  better  and  avertmg  the 
worse.    Philosophy  must  take,  with  good  grace,  its  own 

"" ttTeMier  to  state  the  negative  results  of  the  changed 
idea  of  phUosophy  than  the  positive  ones.    The  point 
that  occurs  to  mind  most  readily  is  that  phUosophy 
wUl  have  to  surrender  aU  pretension  to  be  peculiarly 
concerned  with  ultimate  reality,  or  with  reality  as  a 
complete  (i.e.,  completed)  whole:  with  th^  real  object. 
The  surrender  is  not  easy  of  achievement.    The  phUo- 
sophic  tradition  that  comes  to  us  from  classic  Greek 
thought  and  that  was  reinforced  by  Christian  philoso- 
phy in  the  Middle  Ages  discriminates  philosophical 
knowing  from  other  modes  of  knowing  by  means  of  an 


I  I 


54 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


A    RECOVERY    OF    PHILOSOPHY 


55 


)i 


alleged  peculiarly  intimate  concern  with  supreme,  ulti- 
mate, true  reality.  To  deny  this  trait  to  philosophy 
seems  to  many  to  be  the  suicide  of  philosophy ;  to  be  a 
systematic  adoption  of  skepticism  or  agnostic  posi- 
tivism. 

The  pervasiveness  of  the  tradition  is  shown  in  the 
fact  that  so  vitally  a  contemporary  thinker  as  Berg- 
son,  who  finds  a  philosophic  revolution  involved  in 
abandonment  of  the  traditional  identification  of  the 
truly  real  with  the  fixed  (an  identification  inherited 
from  Greek  thought),  does  not  find  it  in  his  heart  to 
abandon  the  counterpart  identification  of  philosophy 
with  search  for  the  truly  Real ;  and  hence  finds  it  nec- 
essary to  substitute  an  ultimate  and  absolute  flux  for 
an  ultimate  and  absolute  permanence.  Thus  his  great 
empirical  services  in  calling  attention  to  the  funda- 
mental importance  of  considerations  of  time  for 
problems  of  life  and  mind  get  compromised  with  a 
mystic,  non-empirical "  Intuition  " ;  and  we  find  him  pre- 
occupied with  solving,  by  means  of  his  new  idea  of 
ultimate  reality,  the  traditional  problems  of  realities- 
in-themselves  and  phenomena,  matter  and  mind,  free-will 
and  determinism,  God  and  the  world.  Is  not  that  an- 
other evidence  of  the  influence  of  the  classic  idea  about 
philosophy? 

Even  the  new  realists  are  not  content  to  take  their  . 
realism  as  a  plea  for  approaching  subject-matter  di- 
rectly instead  of  through  the  intervention  of  epis- 
temological  apparatus;  they  find  it  necessary  first  to 
determine  the  status  of  the  real  object.  Thus  they 
too  become  entangled  in  the  problem  of  the  possibility 


of  error,  dreams,  hallucinations,  etc.,  in  short,  the  prob- 
lem of  evil.  For  I  take  it  that  an  uncorrupted  reahsm 
would  accept  such  things  as  real  events,  and  find  in 
them  no  other  problems  than  those  attending  the  con- 
sideration of  any  real  occurrence— namely,  problems 
of  structure,  origin,  and  operation. 

It  is  often  said  that  pragmatism,  unless  it  is  con- 
tent to  be  a  contribution  to  mere  methodology,  must 
develop  a  theory  of  Reality.    But  the  chief  character- 
istic trait  of  the  pragmatic  notion  of  reality  is  pre- 
cisely that  no  theory  of  Reality  in  general,  iiherhaupU 
is  possible  or  needed.     It  occupies  the  position  of  an 
emancipated    empiricism    or    a    thoroughgoing    naive 
realism.    It  finds  that  "  reality  "  is  a  denotaUve  term, 
a  word  used  to  designate  indifferently  everything  that 
happens.     Lies,  dreams,  insanities,  deceptions,  myths, 
theories  are  all  of  them  just  the  events  which  they  spe- 
cifically are.    Pragmatism  is  content  to  take  its  stand 
with  science;  for  science  finds  all  such  events  to  be 
subject-matter  of  description  and  inquiry-just  like 
stars  and  fossils,  mosquitoes  and  malaria,  circulation 
and  vision.    It  also  takes  its  stand  with  daily  life,  which 
finds  that  such  things  really  have  to  be  reckoned  with 
as  they  occur  interwoven  in  the  texture  of  events. 

The  only  way  in  which  the  term  reality  can  ever 
become  more  than  a  blanket  denotative  term  is  through 
recourse  to  specific  events  in  all  their  diversity  and 
thatness.  Speaking  summarily,  I  find  that  the  reten- 
tion  by  philosophy  of  the  notion  of  a  Reality  feudally 
superior  to  the  events  of  everyday  occurrence  is  the 
chief  source  of  the  increasing  isolation  of  philosophy 


56  CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 

from  common  sense  and  science.  For  the  latter  do 
not  operate  in  any  such  region.  As  with  them  of  old, 
philosophy  in  dealmg  with  real  difficulties  finds  itself 
still  hampered  by  reference  to  realities  more  real,  more 
ultimate,  than  those  which  directly  happen. 

I  have  said  that  identifying  the  cause  of  philosophy 
with  the  notion  of  superior  reality  is  the  cause  of  an 
increasing  isolation  from  science  and  practical  life.  The 
phrase  reminds  us  that  there  was  a  time  when  the  en- 
terprise of  science  and  the  moral  interests  of  men  both 
moved  in  a  universe  invidiously  distinguished  from  that 
of  ordinary  occurrence.     While  all  that  happens  is 
equally  real — since  it  really  happens— happenings  are 
not  of  equal  worth.     Their  respective  consequences, 
their  import,  varies  tremendously.    Counterfeit  money, 
although  real  (or  rather  because  real),  is  really  differ- 
ent from  valid  circulatory  medium,  just  as  disease  is 
really  different  from  health ;  different  in  specific  struc- 
ture and  so  different  in  consequences.     In  occidental 
thought,  the  Greeks  were  the  first  to  draw  the  distinc- 
tion between  the  genuine  and  the  spurious  in  a  general- 
ized fashion  and  to  formulate  and  enforce  its  tremen- 
dous significance  for  the  conduct  of  life.    But  since  they 
had  at  command  no  technique  of  experimental  analysis 
and  no  adequate  technique   of  mathematical  analysis, 
they  were  compelled  to  treat  the  difference  of  the  true 
and  the  false,  the  dependable  and  the  deceptive,  as 
signifying  two  kinds  of  existence,  the  truly  real  and 
the  apparently  real. 

Two  points  can  hardly  be  asserted  with  too  much 
emphasis.    The  Greeks  were  wholly  right  in  the  feeling 


A    RECOVERY    OF    PHILOSOPHY 


5T 


that  questions  of  good  and  ill,  as  far  as  they  fall  within 
human  control,  are  bound  up  with  discrimination  of 
the  genuine  from  the  spurious,  of  "  being  "  from  what 
only  pretends  to  be.  But  because  they  lacked  adequate 
instrumentalities  for  coping  with  this  difference  in  spe- 
cific situations,  they  were  forced  to  treat  the  difference 
as  a  wholesale  and  rigid  one.  Science  was  concerned 
with  vision  of  ultimate  and  true  reality;  opinion  was 
concerned  with  getting  along  with  apparent  realities. 
Each  had  its  appropriate  region  permanently  marked 
off.  Matters  of  opinion  could  never  become  matters 
of  science;  their  intrinsic  nature  forbade.  When  the 
practice  of  science  went  on  under  such  conditions, 
science  and  philosophy  were  one  and  the  same  thing. 
Both  had  to  do  with  ultimate  reality  in  its  rigid  and 
insuperable  difference  from  ordinary  occurrences. 

We  have  only  to  refer  to  the  way  in  which  medieval 
life  wrought  the  philosophy  of  an  ultimate  and  supreme 
reality  into  the  context  of  practical  life  to  realize  that 
for  centuries  political  and  moral  interests  were  bound 
up  with  the  distinction  between  the  absolutely  real  and 
the  relatively  real.  The  difference  was  no  matter  of  a 
remote  technical  philosophy,  but  one  which  controlled 
life  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave,  from  the  grave  to  the 
endless  life  after  death.  By  means  of  a  vast  institu- 
tion, which  in  effect  was  state  as  well  as  church,  the 
claims  of  ultimate  reality  were  enforced ;  means  of  ac- 
cess to  it  were  provided.  Acknowledgment  of  The 
Reality  brought  security  in  this  world  and  salvation 
in  the  next.  It  is  not  necessary  to  report  the  story 
of  the  change  which  has  since  taken  place.    It  is  enough 


58  CREATIVE   INTELLIGENCE 

for  our  purposes  to  note  that  none  of  the  modem 
philosophies  of  a  superior  reality,  or  the  real  object, 
idealistic  or  realistic,  holds  that  its  insight  makes  a 
difference  like  that  between  sin  and  holiness,  eternal 
condemnation  and  eternal  bliss.  While  in  its  own  con- 
text the  philosophy  of  ultimate  reality  entered  into  the 
vital  concerns  of  men,  it  now  tends  to  be  an  ingenious 
dialectic  exercised  in  professorial  corners  by  a  few  who 
have  retained  ancient  premises  while  rejecting  their 
application  to  the  conduct  of  life. 

The  increased  isolation  from  science  of  any  philoso- 
phy identified  with  the  problem  of  the  real  is  equally 
marked.     For  the  growth  of  science  has  consisted  pre- 
cisely in  the  invention  of  an  equipment,  a  technique  of 
appliances  and  procedures,  which,  accepting  all  occur- 
rences as  homogeneously  real,  proceeds  to  distinguish 
the  authenticated  from  the  spurious,  the  true  from  the 
false,  by  specific  modes  of  treatment  in  specific  situa- 
tions.    The  procedures  of  the  trained  engineer,  of  the 
competent  physician,  of  the  laboratory  expert,  have 
turned  out  to  be  the  only  ways  of  discriminating  the 
counterfeit  from  the  valid.     And  they  have  revealed 
that  the  difference  is  not  one  of  antecedent  fixity  of 
existence,  but  one  of  mode  of  treatment  and  of  the 
consequences  thereon  attendant.     After  mankind  has 
learned  to  put  its  trust  in  specific  procedures  in  order 
to  make  its  discriminations  between  the  false  and  the 
true,  philosophy  arrogates  to  itself  the  enforcement 
of  the  distinction  at  its  own  cost. 

More  than  once,  this  essay  has  intimated  that  the 
counterpart  of  the  idea  of  invidiously  real  reality  is 


A    RECOVERY    OF    PHILOSOPHY 


59 


i 


the  spectator  notion  of  knowledge.    If  the  knower,  how- 
ever defined,  is  set  over  against  the  world  to  be  known, 
knowing  consists  in  possessing  a  transcript,  more  or  less 
accurate  but  otiose,  of  real  things.    Whether  this  tran- 
script is  presentative  in  character  (as  realists  say)  or 
whether  it  is  by  means  of  states  of  consciousness  which 
represent  things  (as  subjectivists  say),  is  a  matter  of 
great  importance  in  its  own  context.     But,  in  another 
regard,  this  difference  is  negligible  in  comparison  with 
the  point  in  which  both  agree.     Knowing  is  viewing 
from  outside.    But  if  it  be  true  that  the  self  or  subject  ^ 
of  experience  is  part  and  parcel  of  the  course  of  events, « 
it  follows  that  the  self  becomes  a  knower.    It  becomes 
a  mind  in  virtue  of  a  distinctive  way  of  partaking  in 
the  course  of  events.     The  significant  distinction  is  no 
longer  between  the  knower  and  the  world ;  it  is  between 
different  ways   of  being  in  and  of  the  movement  of 
things ;  between  a  brute  physical  way  and  a  purposive, 

intelligent  way. 

There  is  no  call  to  repeat  in  detail  the  statements 
which  have  been  advanced.  Their  net  purport  is  that 
the  directive  presence  of  future  possibilities  in  dealing 
with  existent  conditions  is  what  is  meant  by  knowing; 
that  the  self  becomes  a  knower  or  mind  when  anticipa- 
tion of  future  consequences  operates  as  its  stimulus. 
What  we  are  now  concerned  with  is  the  effect  of  this 
conception  upon  the  nature  of  philosophic  knowing. 

As  far  as  I  can  judge,  popular  response  to  pragmatic 
philosophy  was  moved  by  two  quite  different  considera- 
tions. By  some  it  was  thought  to  provide  a  new  species 
of  sanctions,  a  new  mode  of  apologetics,  for  certain 


60  CREATIVE   INTELLIGENCE 

religious  ideas  whose  standing  had  been  threatened. 
By  others,  it  was  welcomed  because  it  was  taken  as  a 
sign  that  philosophy  was  about  to  surrender  its  otiose 
and  speculative  remoteness ;  that  philosophers  were  be- 
ginning to  recognize  that  philosophy  is  of  account  only 
if,  like  everyday  knowing  and  like  science,  it  affords 
guidance  to  action  and  thereby  makes  a  difference  in 
the  event.  It  was  welcomed  as  a  sign  that  philoso- 
phers were  willing  to  have  the  worth  of  their  philo- 
sophizing measured  by  responsible  tests. 

I  have  not  seen  this  point  of  view  emphasized,  or 
hardly  recognized,  by  professional  critics.    The  differ- 
ence of  attitude  can  probably  be  easily  explained.    The 
epistemological  universe  of  discourse  is  so  highly  tech- 
nical that  only  those  who  have  been  trained  in  the  his- 
tory of  thought  think  in  terms  of  it.    It  did  not  occur, 
accordingly,  to  non-technical  readers  to  interpret  the 
doctrine  that  the  meaning  and  validity  of  thought  are 
fixed  by  differences  made  in  consequences  and  in  satis- 
f actoriness,  to  mean  consequences  in  personal  feelings. 
Those  who  were  professionally  trained,  however,  took 
the  statement  to  mean  that  consciousness  or  mind  in 
the  mere  act  of  looking  at  things  modifies  them.    It  un- 
derstood the  doctrine  of  test  of  validity  by  consequences 
to  mean  that  apprehensions  and  conceptions  are  true 
if  the  modifications  affected  by  them  were  of  an  emo- 
tionally desirable  tone. 

Prior  discussion  should  have  made  it  reasonably  clear 
that  the  source  of  this  misunderstanding  lies  in  the 
neglect  of  temporal  considerations.  The  change  made 
in  things  by  the  self  in  knowing  is  not  immediate  and, 


A    RECOVERY    OF    PHILOSOPHY 


61 


so  to  say,  cross-sectional.     It  is  longitudinal — in  the 
redirection  given  to  changes  already  going  on.    Its  ana- 
logue is  found  in  the  changes  which  take  place  in  the 
development  of,  say,  iron  ore  into  a  watch-spring,  not 
in  those  of  the  miracle  of  transubstantiation.    For  the 
static,  cross-sectional,  non-temporal  relation  of  sub- 
ject and  object,  the  pragmatic  hypothesis  substitutes 
apprehension  of  a  thing  in  terms  of  the  results  in  other 
things  which  it  is  tending  to  effect.     For  the  unique 
epistemological  relation,  it  substitutes  a  practical  rela- 
tion of  a   familiar  type :— responsive  behavior  which 
changes  in  time  the  subject-matter  to  which  it  applies. 
The  unique  thing  about  the  responsive  behavior  which 
constitutes  knowing  is   the   specific   difference  which 
marks  it  off  from  other  modes  of  response,  namely,  the 
part  played  in  it  by  anticipation  and  prediction.  Know- 
ing is  the  act,  stimulated  by  this  foresight,  of  securing 
and  averting  consequences.  The  success  of  the  achieve- 
ment measures  the  standing  of  the  foresight  by  which  re- 
sponse is  directed.    The  popular  impression  that  prag- 
matic philosophy  means  that  philosophy  shall  develop 
ideas  relevant  to  the  actual  crises  of  life,  ideas  influ- 
ential in  dealing  with  them  and  tested  by  the  assist- 
ance they  afford,  is  correct. 

Reference  to  practical  response  suggests,  however, 
another  misapprehension.  Many  critics  have  jumped 
at  the  obvious  association  of  the  word  pragmatic  with 
practical.  They  have  assumed  that  the  intent  is  ta 
limit  all  knowledge,  philosophic  included,  to  promoting 
"action,"  understanding  by  action  either  just  any 
bodily  movement,  or  those  bodily  movements  which  con- 


I 


ii 


J' 


i- 


<  . 


62  CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 

duce  to  the  preservation  and  grosser  well-being  of  the 
body.  James'  statement  that  general  conceptions 
must  "  cash  in  "  has  been  taken  (especially  by  Euro- 
pean critics)  to  mean  that  the  end  and  measure  of  in- 
telligence lies  in  the  narrow  and  coarse  utilities  which 
it  produces.  Even  an  acute  American  thinker,  after 
first  criticizing  pragmatism  as  a  kind  of  idealistic  episte- 
mology,  goes  on  to  treat  it  as  a  doctrine  which  regards 
intelligence  as  a  lubricating  oil  facilitating  the  workings 

of  the  body. 

One  source  of  the  misunderstanding  is  suggested  by 
the  fact  that  "  cashing  in "  to  James  meant  that  a 
general  idea  must  always  be  capable  of  verification  in 
specific  existential  cases.     The  notion  of  "  cashing  in  " 
says  nothing  about  the  breadth  or  depth  of  the  specific 
consequences.     As  an  empirical  doctrine,  it  could  not 
say  anything  about  them  in  general;  the  specific  cases 
must  speak  for  themselves.     If  one  conception  is  veri- 
fied   in     terms    of    eating    beefsteak,    and    another 
in     terms     of     a     favorable     credit    balance    in     the 
bank,    that    is    not    because    of    anything    in    the 
theory,   but    because    of    the    specific    nature   of    the 
conceptions  in  question,  and  because  there  exist  par- 
ticular events  like  hunger  and  trade.     If  there  are 
also    existences    in    which    the    most   liberal    esthetic 
ideas  and  the  most  generous  moral  conceptions  can  be 
verified  by  specific  embodiment,  assuredly  so  much  the 
better.     The  fact  that  a  strictly  empirical  philosophy 
was  taken  by  so  many  critics  to  imply  an  a  priori  dogma 
about  the  kind  of  consequences  capable  of  existence  is 
evidence,  I  think,  of  the  inability  of  many  philosophers 


A   RECOVERY   OF    PHILOSOPHY 


63 


to  think  in  concretely  empirical  terms.    Since  the  critics 
were  themselves  accustomed  to  get  results  by  manipu- 
lating the  concepts  of  "  consequences  "  and  of  "  prac- 
tice," they   assumed  that  even  a  would-be  empiricist 
must  be  doing  the  same  sort  of  thing.     It  will,  I  sup- 
pose, remain  for  a  long  time  incredible  to  some  that  a 
philosopher  should  really  intend  to  go  to  specific  experi- 
ences to  determine  of  what  scope  and  depth  practice 
admits,  and  what  sort  of  consequences  the  world  permits 
to  come  into  being.     Concepts  are  so  clear ;  it  takes  so 
little  time  to  develop  their  implications;   experiences 
are  so  confused,  and  it  requires  so  much  time  and  energy 
to  lay  hold  of  them.    And  yet  these  same  critics  charge 
pragmatism   with   adopting  subjective   and   emotional 

standards ! 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  pragmatic  theory  of  intelli- 
gence means  that  the  function  of  mind  is  to  project  new 
and  more  complex  ends— to  free  experience  from  rou- 
tine and  from  caprice.     Not  the  use  of  thought  to  ac- 
complish purposes  already  given  either  in  the  mechan- 
ism of  the  body  or  in  that  of  the  existent  state  of 
society,  but  the  use   of   intelligence  to  liberate   and 
liberalize  action,  is  the  pragmatic  lesson.     Action  re- 
stricted  to   given   and   fixed   ends   may    attain   great 
technical  efficiency ;  but  efficiency  is  the  only  quality  to 
which  it  can  lay  claim.    Such  action  is  mechanical  (or 
becomes  so),  no  matter  what  the  scope  of  the  pre- 
formed end,  be  it  the  Will  of  God  or  Kultur.    But  the 
doctrine  that  intelligence  develops  within  the  sphere  of 
action  for  the  sake  of  possibilities  not  yet  given  is  the 
opposite  of  a  doctrine  of  mechanical  efficiency.    Intel- 


64 


CREATIVE   INTELLIGENCE 


ligence  as  intelligence  is  inherently  forward-looking; 
only  by  ignoring  its  primary  function  does  it  become  a 
mere  means  for  an  end  already  given.  The  latter  w 
•  servile,  even  when  the  end  is  labeled  moral,  religious,  or 
esthetic.  But  action  directed  to  ends  to  which  the  agent 
has  not  previously  been  attached  inevitably  carries  with 
it  a  quickened  and  enlarged  spirit.  A  pragmatic  in- 
telligence is  a  creative  intelligence,  not  a  routine  me- 
chanic. 

All  this  may  read  like  a  defense  of  pragmatism  by 
one  concerned  to  make  out  for  it  the  best  case  possible. 
Such  is  not,  however,  the  intention.  The  purpose  is 
to  indicate  the  extent  to  which  intelligence  frees  action 
from  a  mechanically  instrumental  character.  Intelli- 
gence is,  indeed,  instrumental  through  action  to  the  de- 
termination of  the  qualities  of  future  experience.  But 
the  very  fact  that  the  concern  of  intelligence  is  with 
the  future,  with  the  as-yet-unrealized  (and  with  the 
given  and  the  established  only  as  conditions  of  the 
realization  of  possibilities),  makes  the  action  in  which 
it  takes  effect  generous  and  liberal ;  free  of  spirit.  Just 
that  action  which  extends  and  approves  intelligence 
has  an  intrinsic  value  of  its  own  in  being  instrumental: 
— ^the  intrinsic  value  of  being  informed  with  intelligence 
in  behalf  of  the  enrichment  of  life.  By  the  same  stroke, 
intelligence  becomes  truly  liberal:  knowing  is  a  human 
undertaking,  not  an  esthetic  appreciation  carried  on 
by  a  refined  class  or  a  capitalistic  possession  of  a  few 
learned  specialists,  whether  men  of  science  or  of  philoso- 
phy. 

More  emphasis  has  been  put  upon  what  philosophy 


A    RECOVERY    OF    PHILOSOPHY 


55 


is  not  than  upon  what  it  may  become.  But  it  is  not 
necessary,  it  is  not  even  desirable,  to  set  forth  philoso- 
phy as  a  scheduled  program.  There  are  human  diffi- 
culties of  an  urgent,  deep-seated  kind  which  may  be 
clarified  by  trained  reflection,  and  whose  solution  may 
be  forwarded  by  the  careful  development  of  hypotheses. 
When  it  is  understood  that  philosophic  thinking  is 
caught  up  in  the  actual  course  of  events,  having  the 
office  of  guiding  them  towards  a  prosperous  issue, prob- 
lems will  abundantly  present  themselves.  Philosophy 
will  not  solve  these  problems ;  philosophy  is  vision,  im- 
agination, reflection — and  these  functions,  apart  from 
action,  modify  nothing  and  hence  resolve  nothing.  But 
in  a  complicated  and  perverse  world,  action  which  is 
not  informed  with  vision,  imagination,  and  reflection, 
is  more  likely  to  increase  confusion  and  conflict  than  to 
straighten  things  out.  It  is  not  easy  for  generous  and 
sustained  reflection  to  become  a  guiding  and  illuminat- 
ing method  in  action.  Until  it  frees  itself  from  identi- 
fication with  problems  which  are  supposed  to  depend 
upon  Reality  as  such,  or  its  distinction  from  a  world 
of  Appearance,  or  its  relation  to  a  Knower  as  such, 
the  hands  of  philosophy  are  tied.  Having  no  chance  to 
link  its  fortunes  with  a  responsible  career  by  suggesting 
things  to  be  tried,  it  cannot  identify  itself  with  ques- 
tions which  actually  arise  in  the  vicissitudes  of  life. 
Philosophy  recovers  itself  when  it  ceases  to  be  a  device 
for  dealing  with  the  problems  of  philosophers  and  be- 
comes a  method,  cultivated  by  philosophers,  for  dealing 
with  the  problems  of  men. 

Emphasis  must  vary  with  the  stress  and  special  im- 


66 


CREATIVE   INTELLIGENCE 


pact  of  the  troubles  which  perplex  men.  Each  age 
knows  its  own  ills,  and  seeks  its  own  remedies.  One  does 
not  have  to  forecast  a  particular  program  to  note  that 
the  central  need  of  any  program  at  the  present  day 
is  an  adequate  conception  of  the  nature  of  intelligence 
and  its  place  in  action.  Philosophy  cannot  disavow 
responsibility  for  many  misconceptions  of  the  nature 
of  intelligence  which  now  hamper  its  efficacious  opera- 
tion. It  has  at  least  a  negative  task  imposed  upon  it. 
It  must  take  away  the  burdens  which  it  has  laid  upon 
the  intelligence  of  the  common  man  in  struggling  with 
his  difficulties.  It  must  deny  and  eject  that  intelli- 
gence which  is  naught  but  a  distant  eye,  registering  in 
a  remote  and  alien  medium  the  spectacle  of  nature  and 
life.  To  enforce  the  fact  that  the  emergence  of  imagi- 
nation and  thought  is  relative  to  the  connexion  of  the 
sufferings  of  men  with  their  doings  is  of  itself  to  illu- 
minate those  sufferings  and  to  instruct  those  doings. 
To  catch  mind  in  its  connexion  with  the  entrance  of  the 
novel  into  the  course  of  the  world  is  to  be  on  the  road 
to  see  that  intelligence  is  itself  the  most  promising  of 
all  novelties,  the  revelation  of  the  meaning  of  that  trans- 
formation of  past  into  future  which  is  the  reality  of 
every  present.  To  reveal  intelligence  as  the  organ  for 
the  guidance  of  this  transformation,  the  sole  director  of 
its  quality,  is  to  make  a  declaration  of  present  untold 
significance  for  action.  To  elaborate  these  convictions 
of  the  connexion  of  intelligence  with  what  men  undergo 
because  of  their  doings  and  with  the  emergence  and 
direction  of  the  creative,  the  novel,  in  the  world  is  of 
itself  a  program  which  will  keep  philosophers   busy 


A    RECOVERY    OF    PHILOSOPHY 


67 


until  something  more  worth  while  is  forced  upon  them. 
For  the  elaboration  has  to  be  made  through  application 
to  all  the  disciplines  which  have  an  intimate  connexion 
with  human  conduct: — to  logic,  ethics,  esthetics,  eco- 
nomics, and  the  procedure  of  the  sciences  formal  and 
natural. 

I  also  believe  that  there  is  a  genuine  sense  in  which 
the  enforcement  of  the  pivotal  position  of  intelligence 
in  the  world  and  thereby  in  control  of  human  fortunes 
(so  far  as  they  are  manageable)  is  the  peculiar  problem 
in  the  problems  of  life  which  come  home  most  closely 
to  ourselves — to  ourselves  living  not  merely  in  the 
early  twentieth  century  but  in  the  United  States.  It 
is  easy  to  be  foolish  about  the  connexion  of  thought 
with  national  life.  But  I  do  not  see  how  any  one  can 
question  the  distinctively  national  color  of  English,  or 
French,  or  German  philosophies.  And  if  of  late  the 
history  of  thought  has  come  under  the  domination  of 
the  German  dogma  of  an  inner  evolution  of  ideas,  it 
requires  but  a  little  inquiry  to  convince  oneself  that 
that  dogma  itself  testifies  to  a  particularly  nationalistic 
need  and  origin.  I  believe  that  philosophy  in  America 
will  be  lost  between  chewing  a  historic  cud  long  since  re- 
duced to  woody  fiber,  or  an  apologetics  for  lost  causes 
(lost  to  natural  science),  or  a  scholastic,  schematic 
formalism,  unless  it  can  somehow  bring  to  conscious- 
ness America's  own  needs  and  its  own  implicit  principle 
of  successful  action. 

This  need  and  principle,  I  am  convinced,  is  the  neces- 
sity of  a  deliberate  control  of  policies  by  the  method 
of  intelligence,  an  intelligence  which  is  not  the  faculty 


68 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


of  intellect  honored  in  text-books  and  neglected  else- 
where, but  which  is  the  sum-total  of  impulses,  habits, 
emotions,  records,  and  discoveries  which  forecast  what 
is  desirable  and  undesirable  in  future  possibilities,  and 
which  contrive  ingeniously  in  behalf  of  imagined  good. 
Our  life  has  no  background  of  sanctified  categories 
upon  which  we  may  fall  back;  we  rely  upon  precedent 
as  authority  only  to  our  own  undoing — for  with  us 
there  is  such  a  continuously  novel  situation  that  final 
reliance  upon  precedent  entails  some  class  interest 
guiding  us  by  the  nose  whither  it  will.  British  empiri- 
cism, with  its  appeal  to  what  has  been  in  the  past,  is, 
after  all,  only  a  kind  of  a  priorism.  For  it  lays  down 
a  fixed  rule  for  future  intelligence  to  follow;  and  only 
the  immersion  of  philosophy  in  technical  learning  pre- 
vents our  seeing  that  this  is  the  essence  of  a  priorism. 
We  pride  ourselves  upon  being  realistic,  desiring  a 
hardheaded  cognizance  of  facts,  and  devoted  to  mas- 
tering the  means  of  life.  We  pride  ourselves  upon  a 
practical  idealism,  a  lively  and  easily  moved  faith  in 
possibilities  as  yet  unrealized,  in  willingness  to  make 
sacrifice  for  their  realization.  Idealism  easily  becomes 
a  sanction  of  waste  and  carefulness,  and  realism  a 
sanction  of  legal  formalism  in  behalf  of  things  as  they 
are — the  rights  of  the  possessor.  We  thus  tend  to 
combine  a  loose  and  ineffective  optimism  with  assent 
to  the  doctrine  of  take  who  take  can:  a  deification  of 
power.  All  peoples  at  all  times  have  been  narrowly 
realistic  in  practice  and  have  then  employed  idealiza- 
tion to  cover  up  in  sentiment  and  theory  their  brutali- 
ties.    But  never,  perhaps,  has  the  tendency  been  so 


A    RECOVERY    OF    PHILOSOPHY 


69 


dangerous  and  so  tempting  as  with  ourselves.  Faith 
in  the  power  of  intelligence  to  imagine  a  future  which 
is  the  projection  of  the  desirable  in  the  present,  and  to 
invent  the  instrumentalities  of  its  realization,  is  our 
salvation.  And  it  is  a  faith  which  must  be  nurtured 
and  made  articulate:  surely  a  sufficiently  large  task 
for  our  philosophy. 


\ 


REFORMATION   OF    LOGIC 


71 


REFORMATION  OF  LOGIC 

AbDISON  W.  MOORB 


In  a  general  survey  of  the  development  of  logical 
theory  one  is  struck  by  the  similarity,  not  to  say  iden- 
tity, of  the  indictments  which  reformers,  since  the  days 
of  Aristotle,  have  brought  against  it.  The  most  funda- 
mental of  these  charges  are:  first,  that  the  theory  of 
logic  has  left  it  formal  and  with  little  significance  for 
the  advancement  of  science  and  the  conduct  of  society ; 
second,  that  it  has  great  difficulty  in  avoiding  the 
predicament  of  logical  operations  that  are  merely  la- 
bored reproductions  of  non-logical  activities  and  there- 
fore tautologous  and  trifling,  or  of  logical  operations 
that  are  so  far  removed  from  immediate,  non-logical  ex- 
perience that  they  are  irrelevant;  third,  that  logical 
theory  has  had  trouble  in  finding  room  in  its  own 
household  for  both  truth  and  error;  each  crowds  out 
the  other. 

The  identity  of  these  indictments  regardless  of  the 
general  philosophical  faith,  empiricism,  or  rationalism, 
realism,  or  idealism  to  which  the  reformer  or  the 
logic  to  be  reformed  has  belonged,  suggests  that 
whatever  the  differences  in  the  doctrines  of  these  vari- 
ous philosophic  traditions,  they  possess  a  common 
ground  from  which  these  common  difficulties  spring. 

It  is  the  conviction  of  a  number  whp  are  at  present 


h 


attempting  to  rid  logic  of  these  ancient  disabilities 
that  their  common  source  is  to  be  found  in  a  lack  of 
continuity  between  the  acts  of  intelligence  (or  to  avoid 
the  dangers  of  hypostasis,  intelligent  acts)  and  other 
acts;  between  logical  conduct  and  other  conduct.  So 
wide,  indeed,  is  this  breach,  that  often  little  remains  of 
the  act  of  knowing  but  the  name.  It  may  still  be 
called  an  act,  but  it  has  no  describable  instruments  nor 
technique  of  operation.  It  is  an  indefinable  and  often 
mystical  performance  of  which  only  the  results  can  be 
stated.  In  recent  logical  discussion  this  techniqueless 
act  of  knowing  has  been  properly  enough  transformed 
into  an  indefinable  "  external  relation  "  in  which  an 
entity  called  a  knower  stands  to  another  entity  called 
the  known. 

For  many  centuries  this  breach  between  the  opera- 
tions of  intelligence  and  other  operations  has  been 
closed  by  various  metaphysical  devices  with  the  result 
that  logic  has  been  a  hybrid  science, — half  logic,  half 
metaphysics  and  epistemology.  So  great  has  been 
the  momentum  of  the  metaphysical  tradition  that  long 
after  we  have  begun  to  discover  the  connection  between 
logical  and  non-logical  operations  its  methods  remain 
to  plague  us.  Efforts  to  heal  the  breach  without  a 
direct  appeal  to  metaphysical  agencies  have  been  made 
by  attempting  a  complete  logicizing  of  all  operations. 
But  besides  requiring  additional  metaphysics  to  effect 
it,  the  procedure  is  as  fatal  to  continuity  as  is  an  im- 
passable disjunction.  Continuity  demands  distinction 
as  well  as  connection.  It  requires  the  development,  the 
growth  of  old  material  and  functions  into  new  forms. 


72 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


REFORMATION    OF    LOGIC 


7S 


Driven  by  the  difficulties  of  this  complete  logiciza- 
tion,  which  are  as  serious  as  those  of  isolation,  logical 
theory  was  obliged  to  reinstate  some  sort  of  distinc- 
tion. This  it  did  by  resorting  to  the  categories  of 
"explicit"  and  "implicit."  All  so-called  non-logical 
operations  were  regarded  as  "  implicitly "  logical. 
And,  paradoxically,  logical  operations  had  for  their 
task  the  transformation  of  the  implicit  into  the  explicit. 

An  adequate  account  of  the  origin  and  con- 
tinuance of  this  isolation  of  the  conduct  of  intelli- 
gence from  other  conduct  is  too  long  a  story  to  be 
told  here.  Suffice  it  to  recall  that  in  the  society  in 
which  the  distinction  between  immediate  and  reflective 
experience,  between  opinion  and  science,  between  per- 
cepts and  universals  was  first  made,  intelligence  was 
largely  the  possession  of  a  special  and  privileged  class 
removed  in  great  measure  from  hand-to-hand  contact 
with  nature  and  with  much  of  society.  Because  it  did 
not  fully  participate  in  the  operations  of  nature  and 
society  intelligence  could  not  become  fully  domesticated, 
i.e.,  fully  naturalized  and  socialized  in  its  world.  It 
was  a  charmed  spectator  of  the  cosmic  and  social  drama. 
Doubtless  when  Greek  intelligence  discovered  the  dis- 
tinction between  immediate  and  reflective  experience — 
possibly  the  most  momentous  discovery  in  history — 
"  the  world,"  as  Kant  says  of  the  speculations  of 
Thales,  "  must  suddenly  have  appeared  in  a  new  light." 
But  not  recognizing  the  full  significance  of  this  dis- 
covery, ideas,  universals,  became  but  a  wondrous  specta- 
cle for  the  eye  of  reason.  They  brought,  to  be  sure, 
blessed  relief  from  the  bewildering  and  baffling  flux  of 


perception.  But  it  was  the  relief  of  sanctuary,  not  of 
victory. 

That  the  brilliant  speculations  of  Greek  intelligence 
were  barren  because  there  was  no  technique  for  testing 
and  applying  them  in  detail  is  an  old  story.  But  it 
is  merely  a  restatement,  not  a  solution,  of  the  perti- 
nent question.  This  is:  why  did  not  Greek  intelli- 
gence develop  such  a  technique?  The  answer  lies  in 
the  fact  that  the  technique  of  intelligence  is  to  be  found 
precisely  in  the  details  of  the  operations  of  nature  and  of 
human  conduct  from  which  an  aristocratic  intelligence 
is  always  in  large  measure  shut  off.  Intelligence  cannot 
operate  fruitfully  in  a  vacuum.  It  must  be  incarnate. 
It  must,  as  Hegel  said,  have  "  hands  and  feet." 
When  we  turn  to  the  history  of  modern  science  the  one 
thing  that  stands  out  is  that  it  was  not  until  the  point 
was  reached  where  intelligence  was  ready  (continuing 
the  Hegelian  figure)  to  thrust  its  hands  into  the  vitals 
of  nature  and  society  that  it  began  to  acquire  a  real 
control  over  its  operations. 

In  default  of  such  controlling  technique  there  was 
nothing  to  be  done  with  this  newly  found  instrument  of 
intelligence — the  universal — but  to  retain  it  as  an  ob- 
ject of  contemplation  and  of  worshipful  adoration. 
This  involved,  of  course,  its  hypostasis  as  the  meta- 
physical reality  of  supreme  importance.  With  this,  the 
only  diff^erence  between  "  opinion  "  and  "  science  "  be- 
came one  of  the  kind  of  objects  known.  That  univer- 
sals were  known  by  reason  and  particulars  by  sense 
was  of  little  more  logical  significance  than  that  sounds 
are  known  by  the  ear  and  smells  by  the  nose.    Particu- 


74 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


lars  and  universals  were  equally  given.  If  the  latter  re- 
quired some  abstraction  this  was  regarded  as  merely 
auxiliary  to  the  immediate  vision,  as  sniffing  is  to  the 
perception  of  odor.  That  universals  should  or  could 
be  conceived  as  experimental,  as  hypotheses,  was,  when 
translated  into  later  theology,  the  sin  against  the  Holy 
Ghost. 

However,  the  fact  that  the  particulars  in  the  world 
of  opinion  were  the  stimuli  to  the  "  recollection "  of 
universals  and  that  the  latter  in  turn  were  the  patterns, 
the  forms,  for  the  particulars, opened  the  way  in  actual 
practice  for  the  exercise  of  a  great  deal  of  the  control- 
ling function  of  the  universals.  But  the  failure  to 
recognize  this  control  value  of  the  universal  as  funda- 
mental, made  it  necessary  for  the  universal  to  exercise 
its  function  surreptitiously,  in  the  disguise  of  a  pattern 
and  in  the  clumsy  garb  of  imitation  and  participation. 

With  perceptions,  desires,  and  impulses  relegated  to 
the  world  of  opinion  and  shadows,  and  with  the  newly 
discovered  instrument  of  knowledge  turned  into  an  ob- 
ject, the  knower  was  stripped  of  all  his  knowing  appara- 
tus and  was  left  an  empty,  scuttled  entity  definable 
and  describable  only  as  "  a  knower."  The  knower 
must  know,  even  if  he  had  nothing  to  know  with. 
Hence  the  mystical  almost  indefinable  character  of  the 
knowing  act  or  relation.  I  say  "  almost  indefinable  " ; 
for  as  an  act  it  had,  of  course,  to  have  some  sort  of 
conceptualized  form.  And  this  form  vision  naturally 
furnished.  "  Naturally,"  because  intelligence  was  so 
largely  contemplative,  and  vision  so  largely  immediate, 
imanalyzed,  and  diaphanous.  There  was,  to  be  sure,  the 


REFORMATION    OF    LOGIC 


75 


concept  of  effluxes.  But  this  was  a  statement  of  the 
fact  of  vision  in  terms  of  its  results,  not  of  the  process 
itself.  Thus  it  was  that  the  whole  terminology  of 
knowing  which  we  still  use  was  moulded  and  fixed  upon 
a  very  crude  conception  of  one  of  the  constituents  of 
its  process.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  this  termi- 
nology has  added  much  to  the  inertia  against  which 
the  advance  of  logical  theory  has  worked.  It  would 
be  interesting  to  see  what  would  be  the  effect  upon 
logical  theory  of  the  substitution  of  an  auditory  or 
olfactory  terminology  for  visual ;  or  of  a  visual  termi- 
nology revised  to  agree  with  modern  scientific  analysis 
of  the  act  of  vision  as  determined  by  its  connections 
with  other  functions. 

With  the  act  of  knowing  stripped  of  its  technique 
and  left  a  bare,  unique,  indescribable  act  or  relation,  the 
foundations  for  epistemological  and  metaphysical  logic 
were  laid.  That  Greek  logic  escaped  the  ravages  of 
epistemology  was  due  to  the  saving  materialism  in  its 
metaphysical  conception  of  mind  and  to  the  steadfast- 
ness of  the  aristocratic  regime.  But  when  medieval 
theology  and  Cartesian  metaphysics  had  destroyed  the 
last  remnant  of  metaphysical  connection  between  the 
knowing  mind  and  nature,  and  when  revolutions  had 
torn  the  individual  from  his  social  moorings,  the  stage 
for  epistemological  logic  was  fully  set.  I  do  not  mean 
to  identify  the  epistemological  situation  with  the  Carte- 
sian disjunction.  That  disjunction  was  but  the  meta- 
physical expression  of  the  one  which  constitutes  the 
real  foundation  of  epistemology — ^the  disjunction, 
namely,  between  the  act  of  knowing  and  other  acts. 


76 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


From   this   point   logic   has    followed   one   of   two 
general  courses.     It  has  sought  continuity  by  attempt- 
ing to  reduce  non-logical  things  and  operations  to  terms 
of  logical  operations,  i.e.,  to  sensations  or  universals 
or  both ;  or  it  has  attempted  to  exclude  entirely  the  act 
of  knowing  from  logic  and  to  transfer  logical  distinc- 
tions and  operations,  and  even  the  attributes  of  truth 
and  error  to  objects  which,  significantly  enough,  are 
still  composed  of  these  same  hypostatized  logical  proc- 
esses.    The  first  course  results  in  an  epistemological 
logic  of  some  form  of  the  idealistic  tradition,  rational- 
ism,  sensationalism,   or  transcendentalism,  depending 
upon  whether  universals,  or  sensations,  or  a  combina- 
tion of  both,  is  made  fundamental  in  the  constitution  of 
the  object.    The  second  course  yields  an  epistemological 
logic  of  the  realistic  type,— again,  sensational  or  ra- 
tionalistic   (mathematical),   or   a   combination   of  the 
two— a  sort  of  realistic  transcendentalism.     Each  type 
has  essentially  the  same  difficulties  with  the  processes 
of  inference,  with  the  problem  of  change,  with  truth 
and  error,  and,  on  the  ethical  side,  with  good  and  evil. 
With  the  processes  of  knowing  converted  into  ob- 
jects, and  with  the  act  of  knowing  reduced  to  a  unique 
and  external  relation  between  the  despoiled  knower  and 
the  objects  made  from  its  own  hypostatized  processes, 
all  knowing  becomes  in  the  end  immediate.  All  attempts 
at  an  inference  that  is  anything  more  than  an  elabo- 
rated and  often  confused  restatement  of  non-logical 
operations  break  down.     The  associational  inference 
of  empiricism,  the  subsumptive  inference  of  rationalism, 
the  transcendental  inference  of  objective  idealism,  the 


REFORMATION    OF    LOGIC 


77 


analytical  inference  of  neo-realism — all  alike  face 
the  dilemma  of  an  inference  that  is  trifling  or 
miraculous,  tautologous  or  false.  Where  the  knower 
and  its  object  are  so  constituted  that  the  only  relation 
in  which  the  latter  can  stand  to  the  former  is  that  of 
presence  or  absence,  and  if  to  be  present  is  to  be  known, 
how,  as  Plato  asked,  can  there  be  any  false  knowing? 

For  those  who  accept  the  foregoing  general  diagnosis 
the  prescription  is  obvious.  The  present  task  of  logical 
theory  is  the  restoration  of  the  continuity  of  the  act 
and  agent  of  knowing  with  other  acts  and  agents.  But 
this  is  not  to  be  done  by  merely  furnishing  the  act  of 
knowing  with  a  body  and  a  nervous  system.  If  the 
nervous  system  be  regarded  as  only  an  onlooking,  be- 
holding nervous  system,  if  no  connection  be  made  be- 
tween the  logical  operations  of  a  nervous  system  and 
its  other  operations  a  nervous  system  has  no  logical 
advantage  over  a  purely  psychical  mind. 

It  was  to  be  expected  that  this  movement  toward 
restoration  of  continuity  made  in  the  name  of  "  instru- 
mental "  or  *'  experimental "  logic  would  be  regarded, 
alike,  by  the  logics  of  rationalism  and  empiricism,  of 
idealism  and  of  realism,  as  an  attempt  to  rob  intelli- 
gence of  its  own  unique  and  proper  character ;  to  reduce 
it  to  a  merely  "  psychological  "  and  "  existential  "  af- 
fair; to  leave  no  place  for  genuine  intellectual  interest 
and  activity;  and  to  make  science  a  series  of  more  or 
less  respectable  adventures.  The  counter  thesis  is,  that 
this  restoration  is  truly  a  restoration — not  a  despolia- 
tion of  the  character  and  rights  of  intelligence;  that 
only  such  a  restoration  can  preserve  the  unique  func- 


78 


CREATIVE   INTELLIGENCE 


tion  of  intelligence,  can  prevent  it  from  becoming  merely 
"  existential,"  and  can  provide  a  distinct  place  for  in- 
tellectual and  scientific  interest  and  activity.  It  does 
not,  however,  promise  to  remove  the  stigma  of  "  ad- 
venture "  from  science.  Every  experiment  is  an  ad- 
venture ;  and  it  is  precisely  the  experimental  character 
of  scientific  logic  that  distinguishes  it  from  scholas- 
ticism, medieval  or  modern. 


n 

First  it  is  clear  that  a  reform  of  logic  based  upon  the 
restoration  of  knowing  to  its  connections  with  other 
acts  will  begin  with  a  chapter  containing  an  account 
of  these  other  operations  and  the  general  character  of 
this  connection.*  Logical  theory  has  been  truncated. 
It  has  tried  to  begin  and  end  in  the  middle,  with  the 
result  that  it  has  ended  in  the  air.  Logic  presents  the 
curious  anachronism  of  a  science  which  attempts  to 
deal  with  its  subject-matter  apart  from  what  it  comes 
from  and  what  comes  from  it. 

The  objection  that  such  a  chapter  on  the  conditions 
and  genesis  of  the  operations  of  knowing  belongs  to 
psychology,  only  shows  how  firmly  fixed  is  the  discon- 
tinuity we  are  trying  to  escape.  As  we  have  seen,  the 
original  motive  for  leaving  this  account  of  genesis  to 
psychology  was  that  the  act  of  knowing  was  supposed 
to  originate  in  a  purely  psychical  mind.    Such  an  origin 

•Cf.  Studies  in  Logical  Theory,  Chs.  I  and  II,  by  Dewey;  also 
••  Epistemology  and  Mental  States,"  Tufts,  Phil.  Rev.,  Vol.  VI, 
which  deserves  to  rank  as  one  of  the  early  documents  of  the  **  ex- 
perimental" movement. 


REFORMATION    OF    LOGIC 


79 


was  of  course  embarrassing  to  logic,  which  aimed  to  be 
scientific.  The  old  opposition  between  origin  and 
validity  was  due  to  the  kind  of  origin  assumed  and  the 
kind  of  validity  necessitated  by  the  origin.  One  may 
well  be  excused  for  evading  the  question  of  how  ideas, 
originated  in  a  purely  psychical  mind,  can,  in  Kant's 
phrase,  "  have  objective  validity,"  by  throwing  out  the 
question  of  origin  altogether.  Whatever  difficulties  re- 
main for  validity  after  this  expulsion  could  not  be 
greater  than  those  of  the  task  of  combining  the  objec- 
tive validity  of  ideas  with  their  subjective  origin. 

The  whole  of  this  chapter  on  the  connection  between 
logical  and  non-logical  operations  cannot  be  written 
here.  But  its  central  point  would  be  that  these  other 
acts  with  which  the  act  of  knowing  must  have  contin- 
uity are  just  the  operations  of  our  unreflective  conduct. 
Note  that  it  is  "  unreflective,"  not  "  unconscious,"  nor 
yet  merely  "  instinctive  "  conduct.  It  is  our  percep- 
tive, remembering,  imagining,  desiring,  loving,  hating 
conduct.  Note  also  that  we  do  not  say  "  psychical  "  or 
"  physical,"  nor  "  psycho-physical  "  conduct.  These 
terms  stand  for  certain  distinctions  in  logical  conduct,* 
and  we  are  here  concerned  with  the  character  of  non- 
logical  conduct  which  is  to  be  distinguished  from,  and 
yet  kept  in  closest  continuity  with,  logical  conduct. 

If,  here,  the  metaphysical  logician  should  ask :  "  Are 
you  not  in  this  assumption  of  a  world  of  reflective  and 
unreflective  conduct  and  aff^ection,  and  of  a  world  of 
beings  in  interaction,  begging  a  whole  system  of  meta- 

•  Cf .  "  The  Definition  of  the  Psychical,"  G.  H.  Mead,  Decennial 
Publicationt  of  the  University  of  Chicago. 


80 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


phjsics?"  the  reply  is  that  if  it  is  a  metaphysics  bad 
for  logic,  it  will  keep  turning  up  in  the  course  of  logi- 
cal  theory  as  a  constant  source  of  trouble.  On  the 
other  hand,  if  logic  encounters  grave  difficulties 
when  it  attempts  to  get  on  without  it,  its  assumption, 
for  the  purposes  of  logic,  has  all  the  justification  pos- 
sible. 

Again  it  will  be  urged  that  this  alleged  non-logical 
conduct,  in  so  far  as  it  involves  perception,  memory, 
and  anticipation,  is  already  cognitive  and  logical ;  or  if 
the  act  of  knowing  is  to  be  entirely  excluded  from  logic, 
then,  in  so  far  as  what  is  left  involves  objective  "  terms 
and  relations,"  it,  also,  is  already  logical.    And  it  may 
be  thought  strange  that  a  logic  based  upon  the  restora- 
tion of  continuity  between  the  act  of  knowing  and  other 
acts  should  here  be  insisting  on  distinction  and  separa- 
tion.   The  point  is  fundamental ;  and  must  be  disposed 
of  before  we  go  on.     First,  we  must  observe  that  the 
unity  secured  by  making  all  conscious  conduct  logical 
turns  out,  on  examination,  to  be  more  nominal  than 
real.     As  we  have  already  seen,  this  attempt  at  a  com- 
plete logicizing  of  all  conduct  is  forced  at  once  to  intro- 
duce the  distinction  of  "  explicit  "  and  "  implicit,"  of 
"  conscious  and  unconscious  "  or  "  subconscious  "  logic. 
Some  cynics  have  found  that  this   suggests  dividing 
triangles  into  explicit  and  implicit   triangles,  or  into 
triangles  and  sub-triangles. 

Doubtless  the  attempt  to  make  all  perceptions,  mem- 
ories, and  anticipations,  and  even  instincts  and  habits, 
into  implicit  or  subconscious  inference  is  an  awkward 
effort  to  restore  the  continuity  of  logical  and  non-logi- 


REFORMATION    OF    LOGIC 


SI 


cal  conduct.  Its  awkwardness  consists  in  attempting 
to  secure  this  continuity  by  the  method  of  subsumptive 
identity,  instead  of  finding  it  in  a  transitive  continuity 
of  function; — instead  of  seeing  that  perception,  mem- 
ory, and  anticipation  become  logical  processes  when 
they  are  employed  in  a  process  of  inquiry,  whose  pur- 
pose is  to  relieve  the  difficulties  into  which  these  opera- 
tions in  their  function  as  direct  stimuli  have  fallen. 
Logical  conduct  is  constituted  by  the  cooperation  of 
these  processes  for  the  improvement  of  their  further 
operation.  To  regard  perception,  memory,  and  imagi- 
nation as  implicit  forms  or  as  sub-species  of  logical 
operation  is  much  like  conceiving  the  movements  of  our 
fingers  and  arms  as  implicit  or  imperfect  species  of 
painting,  or  swimming. 

Moreover,  this  doctrine  of  universal  logicism  teaches 
that  when  that  which  is  perfect  is  come,  imperfection 
shall  be  done  away.  This  should  mean  that  when  paint- 
ing becomes  completely  "  explicit "  and  perfect,  fingers 
and  hands  shall  disappear.  Perfect  painting  will  be 
the  pure  essence  of  painting.  And  this  interpretation 
is  not  strained ;  for  this  logic  expressly  teaches  that  in 
the  perfected  real  system  all  temporal  elements  are 
unessential  to  logical  operations.  They  are,  of  course, 
psychologically  necessary  for  finite  beings,  who  can 
never  have  perfectly  logical  experiences.  But,  from 
the  standpoint  of  a  completely  logicized  experience,  all 
finite,  temporal  processes  are  accidents,  not  essentials, 
of  logical  operations. 

The  fact  that  the  processes  of  perception, 
memory,   and    anticipation   are   transformed  in   their 


82 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


logical  operation  into  sensations  and  universals,  terms, 
and  relations,  and,  as  such,  become  the  subject-matter 
of  logical  theory,  does  not  mean  that  they  have 
lost  their  mediating  character,  and  have  become  merely 
objects  of  logical  contemplation  at  large.  Sensations 
or  sense-data,  and  ideas,  terms  and  relations,  are 
the  subject-matter  of  logical  theory  for  the  reason  that 
they  sometimes  succeed  and  sometimes  fail  in  their 
logical  operations.  And  it  is  the  business  of  logical 
theory  to  diagnose  the  conditions  of  this  success  and 
failure.  If,  in  writing,  my  pen  becomes  defective  and 
is  made  an  object  of  inquiry,  it  does  not  therefore  lose 
all  its  character  as  a  pen  and  become  merely  an  object 
at  large.  It  is  as  an  instrument  of  writing  that  it  is 
investigated.  So,  sense-data,  universals,  terms,  and 
relations  as  subject-matter  of  logic  are  investigated  in 
their  character  as  mediators  of  the  ambiguities  and 
conflicts,  of  non-logical  experience. 

If  the  operations  of  habit,  instinct,  perceptions, 
memory,  and  anticipation  become  logical,  when,  instead 
of  operating  as  direct  stimuli,  they  are  employed  in  a 
process  of  inquiry,  we  must  next  ask:  (1)  under 
what  conditions  do  they  pass  over  into  this  process  of 
inquiry?  (2)  what  modifications  of  operation  do  they 
undergo,  what  new  forms  do  they  take,  and  what  new 
results  do  they  produce  in  their  logical  operations? 

If  the  act  of  inquiry  be  not  superimposed,  it  must 
arise  out  of  some  specific  condition  in  the  course  of  non- 
logical  conduct.  Once  more,  if  the  alarm  be  sounded 
at  this  proposal  to  find  the  origin  of  logical  in  non- 
logical  operations  it  must  be  summarily  answered  by 


REFORMATION    OF    LOGIC 


88 


asking  if  the  one  who  raises  the  cry  finds  it  impossible 
to  imagine  that  one  who  is  not  hungry,  or  angry,  or 
patriotic,  or  wise  may  become  so.  Non-logical  conduct 
is  not  the  abstract  formal  contradictory  of  logical  con- 
duct any  more  than  present  satiety  or  foolishness  is 
the  contradictory  of  later  hunger  or  wisdom,  or  than 
anger  at  one  person  contradicts  cordiality  to  another, 
or  to  the  same  person,  later.  The  old  bogie  of  the 
logical  irrelevance  of  origin  was  due  to  the  inability  to 
conceive  continuity  except  in  the  form  of  identity  in 
which  there  was  no  place  for  the  notion  of  growth. 

The  conditions  under  which  non-logical  conduct  be- 
comes logical  are  familiar  to  those  who  have  followed 
the  doctrines  of  experimental  logic  as  expounded  in  the 
discussions  of  the  past  few  years.  The  transformation 
begins  at  the  point  where  non-logical  processes  instead 
of  operating  as  direct  unambiguous  stimuli  and  response 
become  ambiguous  with  consequent  inhibition  of  con- 
duct. But  again  this  does  not  mean  that  at  this  junc- 
ture the  non-logical  processes  quit  the  field  and  give 
place  to  a  totally  new  faculty  and  process  called  rea- 
son. They  stay  on  the  job.  But  there  is  a  change  in 
the  job,  which  now  is  to  get  rid  of  this  ambiguity. 
This  modification  of  the  task  requires,  of  course,  cor- 
responding modification  and  adaptation  of  these 
operations.  They  take  on  the  form  of  sensations  and 
universals,  terms  and  relations,  data  and  hypotheses. 
This  modification  of  function  and  form  constitutes 
"  reason  "  or,  better,  reasontii^. 

Here  some  one  will  ask,  "  Whence  comes  this  ambi- 
guity?    How  can  a  mere  perception  or  memory  as 


84 


CREATIVE   INTELLIGENCE 


I'll 


such  be  ambiguous?    Must  it  not  be  ambiguous  to,  or 
for,  something,  or  some  one?  "  The  point  is  well  taken. 
But  it  should  not  be  taken  to  imply  that  the  ambiguity 
is  for  a  merely  onlooking,  beholding  psychical  mind- 
especially  when  the  perception  is  itself  regarded  as  an 
act  of  beholding.    Nor  are  we  any  better  off  if  we  sup- 
pose the  beholding  mind  to  be  equipped  with  a  faculty 
of  reason  in  the  form  of  the  principle  of  "  contradic- 
tion."     For  this  throws  no  light  on  the  origin  and 
meaning  of  ambiguity.    And  if  we  seek  to  make  all  per- 
ceptions as  such  ambiguous  and  contradictory,  in  order 
to  make  room  for,  and  justify,  the  operations  of  reason, 
other  difficulties  at  once  beset  us.     When  we  attempt 
to  remove  this  specific  ambiguity  of  perceptive  conduct 
we  shall  be  forced,  before  we  are  through,  to  appeal 
back  to  perception,  which  we  have  condemned  as  in- 
herently contradictory,  both  for  data  and  for  verifica- 
tion. 

However,  the  insistence  that  perception  must  be  am- 
biguous to,  or  for,  something  beyond  itself  is  weU 
grounded.  And  this  was  recognized  in  the  statement 
that  It  is  equivocal  as  a  stimulus  in  conduct.  There 
need  be  no  mystery  as  to  how  such  equivocation  arises. 
That  there  is  such  a  thing  as  a  conduct  at  all  means 
that  there  are  certain  beings  who  have  acquired  definite 
ways  of  responding  to  one  another.  It  is  important 
to  observe  that  these  forms  of  interaction— instinct 
and  habit,  perception,  memory,  etc.— are  not  to  be 
located  in  either  of  the  interacting  beings  but  are  func- 
tions of  both.  The  conception  of  these  operations  as 
the  private  functions  of  an  organism  is  the  forerunner 


REFORMATION    OF    LOGIC 


85 


of  the  epistemological  predicament.  It  results  in  a 
conception  of  knowing  as  wholly  the  act  of  a  knower 
apart  from  the  known.  This  is  the  beginning  of  episte- 
mology. 

But  to  whatever  extent  interacting  beings  have  ac- 
quired definite  and  specific  ways  of  behavior  toward  one 
another  it  is  equally  plain — the  theory  of  external  re- 
lations notwithstanding — that  in  this  process  of  inter- 
action these  ways  of  behavior,  of  stimulus  and  response, 
undergo  modification.  If  the  world  consisted  of 
two  interacting  beings,  it  is  conceivable  that 
the  modifications  of  behavior  might  occur  in 
such  close  continuity  of  relation  to  each  of 
the  interacting  beings  that  the  adjustment  would 
be  very  continuous,  and  there  might  be  little  or  no 
ambiguity  and  conflict.  But  in  a  world  where  any  two 
interacting  beings  have  innumerable  interactions  with 
innumerable  other  beings  and  in  all  these  interactions 
modifications  are  effected,  it  is  to  be  expected  that 
changes  in  the  behavior  of  each  or  both  will  occur,  so 
marked  that  they  are  bound  to  result  in  breaks  in  the 
continuity  of  stimulus  and  response — even  to  the  point 
of  tragedy.  However,  the  tragedy  is  seldom  so  great 
that  the  ambiguity  extends  to  the  whole  field  of  con- 
duct. Except  in  extreme  pathological  cases  (and  in 
epistemology),  complete  skepticism  and  aboulia  do  not 
occur.  Ambiguity  always  falls  within  a  field  or  direc- 
tion of  conduct,  and  though  it  may  extend  much  further, 
and  must  extend  some  further  than  the  point  at  which 
equivocation  occurs,  yet  it  is  never  ubiquitous.  An 
ambiguity  concerning  the  action  of  gravitation  is  no 


86 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


less  specific  than  one  regarding  color  or  sound ;  indeed, 
the  one  may  be  found  to  involve  the  other.  • 

Logical  conduct  is,  then,  conduct  which  aims  to 
remove  ambiguity  and  inhibition  in  unreflective 
conduct.  The  instruments  of  its  operation  are  forged 
from  the  processes  of  unreflective  conduct  by  such 
modification  and  adaptation  as  is  required  to  enable 
them  to  accomplish  this  end.  Since  these  logical  oper- 
ations sometimes  fail  and  sometimes  succeed  they  be- 
come the  subject-matter  of  logical  theory.  But  the 
technique  of  this  second  involution  of  reflection  is  not 
supplied  by  some  new  and  unique  entity.  It  also  is 
derived  from  modifications  of  previous  operations  of 
both  reflective  and  non-reflective  conduct. 

While  emphasizing  the  continuity  between  non-logi- 
cal and  logical  operations,  we  must  keep  in  mind  that 
their  distinction  is  of  equal  importance.  Confusion  at 
this  point  is  fatal.  A  case  in  point  is  the  confusion 
between  non-logical  and  logical  observation.  The  re- 
sults of  non-logical  observation,  e.g.,  looking  and  listen- 
ing, are  direct  stimuli  to  further  conduct.  But  the 
purpose  and  result  of  logical  observation  are  to  secure 
data,  not  as  direct  stimuli  to  immediate  conduct  but  as 
stimuli  to  the  construction  or  verification  of  hypotheses 
which  are  the  responses  of  the  logical  operation  of  im- 
agination to  the  data.  Hypotheses  are  anticipatory. 
But  they  difl^er  from  non-logical  anticipation  in  that 
they  are  tentatively,  experimentally,  i.e.,  logically  an- 
ticipatory. The  non-logical  operations  of  memory  and 
anticipation  lack  just  this  tentative,  experimental  char- 
acter.    When  we  confuse  the  logical  and  non-logical 


REFORMATION    OF    LOGIC 


87 


operations  of  these  processes  the  result  is  either  that 
logical  processes  will  merely  repeat  non-logical  opera- 
tions in  which  case  we  have  inference  that  is  tautolo- 
gous  and  trifling;  or  the  non-logical  will  attempt  to 
perform  logical  operations,  and  our  inference  is 
miraculous.  If  we  seek  to  escape  by  an  appeal  to  habit, 
as  in  empiricism,  or  to  an  objective  universal,  as  in 
idealism  and  neo-realism,  we  are  merely  disguising,  not 
removing  the  miracle. 

It  may  be  thought  that  this  confusion  would  be  most 
likely  to  occur  in  a  theory  which  teaches  that  non-logical 
processes  are  carried  over  into  logical  operations.  But 
this  overlooks  the  fact  that  the  theory  recognizes  at 
the  same  time  that  these  non-logical  operations  undergo 
modification  and  adaptation  to  the  demands  of  the  logi- 
cal enterprise.  On  the  other  hand,  those  who  make  all 
perceptions,  memory,  and  anticipation,  not  to  speak  of 
habit  and  instinct,  logical,  have  no  basis  for  the  distinc- 
tion between  logical  and  non-logical  results ;  while  those 
who  refuse  to  give  the  operations  of  perception,  mem- 
ory, etc.,  any  place  in  logic  can  make  no  connections 
between  logical  and  non-logical  conduct.  Nor  are  they 
able  to  distinguish  in  a  specific  case  truth  from  error. 

In  all  logics  that  fail  to  make  this  connection  and 
distinction  between  logical  and  non-logical  operations 
there  is  no  criterion  for  data.  If  ultimate  sim- 
plicity is  demanded  of  the  data,  there  is  no  standard 
for  simplicity  except  the  minimum  sensibile  or  the 
minimum  intelligihile  which  have  recently  been 
resurrected.  On  the  other  hand,  where  simplicity  is 
waived,  as  in  the  logic  of  objective  idealism,  there  is 


88 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


i.,t- 


still  no  criterion  of  logical  adequacy.  But  if  we  under- 
stand by  logical  data  not  anything  that  happens  to  be 
given,  but  something  sought  as  material  for  an  hy- 
pothesis, i.e.,  a  proposed  solution  (proposition)  of  an 
ambiguous  object  of  conduct  and  affection,  then  what- 
ever results  of  observation  meet  this  requirement  are 
logical  data.  And  whenever  data  are  found  from  which 
an  hypothesis  is  constructed  that  succeeds  in  abolishing 
the  ambiguity,   they   are  simple,   adequate,   and  true 

data. 

No  scientist,  not  even  the  mathematician,  in  the 
specific  investigations  of  his  field,  seeks  for  ultimate 
and  irreducible  data  at  large.  And  if  he  found  them  he 
could  not  use  them.  It  is  only  in  his  metaphysical  per- 
sonality that  he  longs  for  such  data.  The  data  which 
the  scientist  in  any  specific  inquiry  seeks  are  the  data 
which  suggest  a  solution  of  the  question  in  which  the 
investigation  starts.  When  these  data  are  found  they 
are  the  "  irreducibles  "  of  that  problem.  But  they  are 
relative  to  the  question  and  answer  of  the  investigation. 
Their  simplicity  consists  in  the  fact  that  they  are  the 
data  from  which  a  conclusion  can  be  made.  The  term 
"  simple  data "  is  tautologous.  That  one  is  in  need 
of  data  more  "  simple  "  means  that  one  is  in  need  of 
new  data  from  which  an  hypothesis  can  be  formed. 

It  is  true  that  the  actual  working  elements  with  which 
the  scientist  operates  are  always  complex  in  the  sense 
that  they  are  always  something  more  than  elements  in 
any  specific  investigation.  They  have  other  connec- 
tions and  alliances.  And  this  complexity  is  at  once  the 
despair  and  the  hope  of  the  scientist;  his  despair,  be- 


REFORMATION    OF    LOGIC 

cause  he  cannot  be  sure  when  these  other  connections 
will  interfere  with  the  allegiance  of  his  elements  to  his 
particular  undertaking;  his  hope,  because  when  these 
alliances  are  revealed  they  often  make  the  elements  more 
efficient  or  exhibit  capacities  which  will  make  them 
elements  in  some  other  undertaking  for  which  elements 
have  not  been  found.  A  general  resolves  his  army  into 
so  many  marching,  eating,  shooting  units;  but  these 
elements  are  something  more  than  marching,  shooting 
units.  They  are  husbands  and  fathers,  brothers  and 
lovers,  protestants  and  catholics,  artists  and  artisans, 
etc.  And  the  militarist  can  never  be  sure  at  what  point 
these  other  activities — I  do  not  say  merely  external 
*  relationships — may  upset  his  calculations.  If  he  could 
find  units  whose  whole  and  sole  natute  is  to  march  and 
shoot,  his  problem  would  be,  in  some  respects,  simpler, 
though  in  others  more  complex.  As  it  is,  he  is  con- 
stantly required  to  ask  how  far  these  other  functions 
will  support  and  at  what  point  they  will  rebel  at  the 
marching  and  shooting. 

Such,  in  principle,  is  the  situation  in  every  scientific 
inquiry.  Wben  the  failure  of  the  old  elements  occurs 
it  is  common  to  say  that  "simpler"  elements  are 
needed.  And  doubtless  in  his  perplexity  the  scientist 
may  long  for  elements  which  have  no  entangling  alli- 
ances, whose  sole  nature  and  character  is  to  be 
elements.  But  what  in  fact  he  actually  seeks  in  every 
specific  investigation  are  elements  whose  nature  and 
functions  mil  not  interfere  with  their  serving  as  units 
in  the  enterprise  in  hand.  But  from  some  other  stand- 
point these  new  elements  may  be  vastly  more  complex 


90 


CREATIVE   INTELLIGENCE 


REFORMATION    OF    LOGIC 


91 


than  the  old,  as  is  the  case  with  the  modem  as  com- 
pared with  the  ancient  atom.  When  the  elements  are 
secured  which  operate  successfully,  the  non-interfering 
connections  can  be  ignored  and  the  elements  can  be 
treated  as  if  they  did  not  have  them, — as  if  they  were 
metaphysically  simple.  But  there  is  no  criterion  for 
metaphysical  simplicity  except  operative  simplicity. 
To  be  simple  is  to  serve  as  an  element,  and  to  serve 
as  an  element  is  to  be  simple. 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  in  view  of  the  foregoing  to 
add  that  the  data  of  science  are  not  **  sense-data,"  if 
by  sense-data  be  meant  data  which  are  the  result  of  the 
operations  of  sense  organs  alone.  Data  are  as  much 
or  more  the  result  of  operations,  first,  of  the  motor  , 
system  of  the  scientist's  own  organism,  and  second,  of 
all  of  the  machinery  of  his  laboratory  which  he  calls 
to  his  aid.  Whether  named  after  the  way  they  are  ob- 
tained, or  after  the  way  they  are  used,  data  are  quite 
as  much  "  motor  "  as  "  sense."  Nor,  on  the  other  hand, 
are  there  any  purely  intellectual  data — not  even  for  the 
mathematician.  Some  mathematicians  may  insist  that 
their  symbols  and  diagrams  are  merely  stimuli  to  the 
platonic  operation  of  pure  and  given  universals.  But 
until  mathematics  can  get  on  without  these  symbols  or 
any  substitutes  the  intuitionist  in  mathematics  wiH 
continue  to  have  his  say. 

Wherever  the  discontinuity  between  logical  operations 
and  their  acts  persists,  all  the  difficulties  with  data  have 
their  correlative  difficulties  with  hypotheses.  In  Mill's 
logic  the  account  of  the  origin  of  hypotheses  oscillates 
between   the   view   that   they   are   happy    guesses   of 


a  mind  composed  of  states  of  consciousness,  and 
the  view  that  they  are  "  found  in  the  facts "  or 
are  "impressed  on  the  mind  by  the  facts."  The 
miracle  of  relevancy  required  in  the  first  position 
drives  the  theory  to  the  second.  And  the  tautolo- 
gous,  useless  nature  of  the  hypothesis  in  the  second 
forces  the  theory  back  to  the  first  view.  In  this 
predicament,  little  wonder  Mill  finds  that  the  easiest 
way  out  is  to  make  hypotheses  "  auxiliary  "  and  not  in- 
digenous to  inference.  But  this  exclusion  of  hypotheses 
as  essential  leaves  his  account  of  inference  to  oscillate 
between  the  association  of  particulars  of  nominalism 
and  scholastic  formalism,  from  both  of  which  Mill,  with 
the  dignified  zeal  of  a  prophet,  set  out  to  rescue 
logic. 

Mill's  rejection  of  hypotheses  formed  by  a  mind 
whose  operations  have  no  discoverable  continuity  with 
the  operations  of  things,  or  by  things  whose  actions 
are  independent  of  the  operations  of  ideas,  is  forever 
sound.  But  his  acceptance  of  the  discontinuity  be- 
tween the  acts  of  knowing  and  the  operation  of  things, 
and  the  conclusion  that  these  two  conceptions  of  the 
origin  and  nature  of  hypotheses  are  the  only  alterna- 
tives, were  the  source  of  most  of  his  difficulties. 

m 

The  efforts  of  classic  empiricism  at  the  reform  of 
logic  have  long  been  an  easy  mark  for  idealistic  reform- 
ers. But  it  is  interesting  to  observe  that  the  idealistic 
logic  from  the  beginning  finds  itself  in  precisely  the 
same    predicament    regarding   hypotheses; — they    ar« 


9t 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


trifling  or  false.     And  in  the  end  they  are  made,  as 
in  Mill,  "  accidents  "  of  inference. 

The  part  played  by  Kant's  sense-material  and  the 
categories  is  almost  the  reverse  of  those  of  data  and 
hypothesis  in  science.     Sense  material  and  the  cate- 
gories are  the  given  elements  from  which  objects  are 
somehow  made;  in  scientific  procedure  data  and  hy- 
pothesis are  derived  through  logical  observation  and  im- 
agination from  the  content  and  operations  of  immediate 
experience.    In  Kant's  account  of  the  process  by  which 
objects  are  constructed  we  are  nowhere  in  sight  of  any 
experimental  procedure.    Indeed,  the  real  act  of  know- 
ing, the  selection  and  application  of  the  category  to 
the  sense  matter,  is,  as  Kant  in  the  end  had  to  confess, 
"hidden  away  in  the  depths  of  the  soul."     Made  in 
the  presence  of  the  elaborate  machinery  of  knowing 
which  Kant  had  constructed,  this  confession  is  almost 
tragic;  and  the  tragic  aspect  grows  when  we  find  that 
the  result  of  the  "  hidden  "  operation  is  merely  a  phe- 
nomenal object.    That  this  should  be  the  case,  however, 
is  not  strange.     A  phenomenal  object  is  the  inevitable 
correlate  of  the  "  hidden  "  act  of  knowing  whether  in 
a  "  transcendental  "  or  in  an  "  empirical  "  logic.     In 
vain  do  we  call  the  act  of  knowing  "  constructive " 
and  "  synthetic  "  if  its  method  of  synthesis  is  hidden. 
A  transcendental  unity  whose  method  is  indefinable  has 
no  advantage  over  empirical  association. 

It  was  the  dream  of  Kant  as  of  Mill  to  replace  the 
logics  of  sensationalism  and  rationalism  with  a  "  logic 
of  things  "  and  of  "  truth."  But  as  Mill's  things  turned 
to  states  of  consciousness,  so  Kant's  are  phenomenal. 


REFORMATION    OF    LOGIC 


9S 


Their  common  fate  proclaims  their  common  failure — 
the  failure  to  reestablish  continuity  between  the  con- 
duct of  intelligence  and  other  conduct.  • 

One  of  the  chief  counts  in  Hegel's  indictment  of 
Kant's  logic  is  that  "  it  had  no  influence  on  the  methods 
of  science."  *  Hegel's  explanation  is  that  Kant's  cate- 
gories have  no  genesis;  they  are  not  constructed  in 
and  as  part  of  logical  operations.  As  given,  ready- 
made,  their  relevance  is  a  miracle.  But  if  categories 
be  "  generated  "  in  the  process  of  knowing,  says  Hegel, 
they  are  indigenous,  and  their  fitness  is  inevitable. 
In  such  statements  Hegel  raises  expectations  that  we 
are  at  last  to  have  a  logic  which  squares  with  the  pro- 
cedure of  science.  But  when  we  discover  that  instead 
of  being  "  generated  "  out  of  all  the  material  involved 
in  the  scientific  problem  Hegel's  categories  are  derived 
from  each  other,  misgivings  arise.  And  when  we  further 
learn  that  this  "  genesis  "  is  timeless,  which  means  that, 
after  all,  the  categories  stand  related  to  each  other  in 
a  closed,  eternal  system  of  implication,  we  abandon 
hope  of  a  scientific — i.e.,  experimental — ^logic. 

Hegel  also  says  it  is  the  business  of  philosophy  "  to 
substitute  categories  or  in  more  precise  language  ade- 
quate notions  for  the  several  modes  of  feeling,  percep- 
tion, desire,  and  will."  The  word  "  substitute "  re- 
veals the  point  at  issue.  If  "  to  substitute  "  means  that 
philosophy  is  a  complete  exchange  of  the  modes  of 
feeling,  perception,  desire,  and  will  for  a  world  of  cate- 
gories or  notions,  then,  saying  nothing  of  the  range  of 
values  in  such  a  world,  the  problem  of  the  meaning 
•  Of.  The  Logic  of  Hegel-Wallace,  p.  117. 


94 


CREATIVE   INTELLIGENCE 


REFORMATION    OF    LOGIC 


95 


I*"' 


of  "adequate"  is  on  our  hands.  What  is  the 
notion  to  be  adequate  to?  But  if  "to  substitute*' 
means  that  the  modes  of  feeling,  perception,  desire,  and 
will,  when  in  a  specific  situation  of  ambiguity  and  in- 
hibition, go  over  into,  take  on,  the  modes  of  data  and 
hypothesis  in  the  efFort  to  get  rid  of  inhibiting  con- 
flict that  is  quite  another  matter.  Here  the  "  notion," 
as  the  scientific  hypothesis,  has  a  criterion  for  its  ade- 
quacy. But  if  the  notion  usurps  the  place  of  feeling, 
perception,  desire,  and  will,  as  many  find,  in  the  end, 
it  does  in  Hegel's  logic,  it  thereby  loses  all  tests 
for  the  adequacy  of  its  function  and  character  as  a 
notion.  , 

In  the  development  of  the  logical  doctrines  of  Kant 
and  Hegel  by  Lotze,  Green,  Sigwart,  Bradley,  Bosan- 
quet,  Royce,  and  others,  there  are  indeed  differences. 
But  these  differences  only  throw  their  common  ground 
into  bolder  relief.  This  common  ground  is  that,  pro- 
cedure by  hypotheses,  by  induction,  is,  in  the  language 
of  Professor  Bosanquet,  "a  transient  and  external 
characteristic  of  inference."  ♦  And  the  ground  of  this 
verdict  is  essentially  the  same  as  Mill's,  when  he  rejects 
hypotheses  "made  by  the  mind,"  namely,  that  such 
hypotheses  are  too  subjective  in  their  origin  and  nature 
to  have  objective  validity.  "  Objective  "  idealism  is 
trying,  like  Mill,  to  escape  the  subjectivism  of  the 
purely  individual  and  "  psychical  "  knower.  But,  be- 
ing unable  to  reconstruct  the  finite  knower,  and  being 
too  sophisticated  to  make  what  it  regards  as  Mill's 

*Bo8anquet't  Logic,   2nd   Ed.,   p.    171.     The   identification  of 
induction  and  procedure  by  hypothesis  occurs  on  p.  156. 


naive  appeal  to  "  hypotheses  found  in  things,"  it  trans- 
fers the  real  process  of  inference  to  the  "  objective 
universal,"  and  the  process  of  all  thought,  including 
inference,  is  now  defined  as  "  the  reproduction^  by  a 
unvoersal  presented  in  a  content ^  of  contents  distin- 
guished from  the  presented  content  which  also  are 
differences  of  the  same  universal,''*  * 

It  need  scarcely  be  said  that  in  inference  thus  de- 
fined there  is  scant  room  for  hypotheses.  There  is 
nothing  "hypothetical,"  "experimental,"  or  "tenta- 
tive "  in  this  process  of  reproduction  by  the  objective 
universal  as  such.  As  little  is  there  any  possibility  of 
error.  If  there  is  anything  hypothetical,  or  any  possi- 
bility of  error,  in  inference,  it  is  due  to  the  temporal, 
finite  human  being  in  which,  paradoxically  enough,  this 
process  of  "  reproduction  "  goes  on  and  to  whom,  at 
times,  is  given  an  "  infinitesimal "  part  in  the  opera- 
tion, while  at  other  times  he  is  said  merely  to  "  witness  '* 
it.  But  the  real  inference  does  not  "  proceed  by  hy- 
potheses " ;  it  is  only  the  finite  mind  in  witnessing  the 
real  logical  spectacle  or  in  its  "  infinitesimal "  contri- 
bution to  it  that  lamely  proceeds  in  this  manner. 

Here,  again,  we  have  the  same  break  in  continuity  be- 
tween the  finite,human  act  of  knowing  and  the  operations 
that  constitute  the  real  world.  When  the  logic  of  the 
objective  universal  rejects  imputations  of  harboring  a 
despoiled  psychical  knower  it  has  in  mind,  of  course,  the 
objective  universal  as  knower,  not  the  finite,  human  act. 
But,  if  the  participations  of  the  latter  are  all  accidents 
of  inference,  as  they  are  said  to  be,  its  advantage 

*lb%d.,  p.  14  (italics  mine). 


96 


CREATIVE   INTELLIGENCE 


over  a  purely  psychical  knower,  or  **  slates 
of  consciousness,"  is  difficult  to  see.  The  rejection 
of  metaphysical  dualism  is  of  no  consequence  if  the 
logical  operations  of  the  finite,  human  being  are  only 
"  accidents  "  of  the  real  logical  process.  As  already 
remarked,  the  metaphysical  disjunction  is  merely  a 
schematism  of  the  more  fundamental,  logical  disjunc- 
tion. 

As  for  tautology  and  miracle,  the  follower  of  Mill 
might  well  ask:  how  an  association  of  particulars, 
whether  mental  states  or  things,  could  be  more  tauto- 
logous  than  a  universal  reproducing  its  own  differences  ? 
And  if  the  transition  from  particular  to  particular  is 
a  miracle  in  which  the  grace  of  God  is  disguised  as 
"  habit,"  why  is  not  habit  as  good  a  disguise  for  Provi- 
dence as  universals.?  Moreover,  by  what  miracle 
does  the  one  all-inclusive  universal  become  a  universal? 
And  since  perception  always  presents  a  number  of  uni- 
versals,  what  determines  which  one  shall  perform  the 
reproduction.?  Finally,  since  there  are  infinite  differ- 
ences of  the  universal  that  might  be  reproduced,  what 
determines  just  which  differences  shall  be  reproduced? 
In  this  wise  the  controversy  has  gone  on  ever  since  the 
challenge  of  the  old  rationalistic  logic  by  the  nominalists 
launched  the  issue  of  empiricism  and  rationalism.  All 
the  charges  which  each  makes  against  the  other  are 
easily  retorted  upon  itself.  Each  side  is  resistless  in 
attack,  but  helpless  in  defense. 

In  a  conception  of  inference  in  which  both  data  and 
hypothesis  are  regarded  as  the  tentative,  experimental 
results  of  the  processes  of  perception,  memory,  and 


REFORMATION    OF    LOGIC 


97 


constructive  imagination  engaged  in  the  special  task 
of  removing  conflict,  ambiguity,  and  inhibition,  and  in 
which  these  processes  are  not  conceived  as  the  func- 
tions of  a  private  mind  nor  of  an  equally  private  brain 
and  nervous  system,  but  as  functions  of  interacting 
beings, — ^in  such  a  conception  there  is  no  ground  for 
anxiety  concerning  the  simplicity  of  data,  nor  the  ob- 
jectivity of  hypotheses.  Simplicity  and  objectivity 
do  not  have  to  be  secured  through  elaborate  and 
labored  metaphysical  construction.  The  data  are 
simple  and  the  hypothesis  objective  in  so  far  as  they 
accomplish  the  work  whereunto  they  are  called — the 
removal  of  conflict,  ambiguity,  and  inhibition  in  con- 
duct and  affection. 

In  the  experimental  conception  of  inference  it  is  clear 
that  the  principles  of  formal  logic  must  play  their  role 
wholly  inside  the  course  of  logical  operations.  They 
do  not  apply  to  relations  between  these  operations  and 
"  reality  " ;  nor  to  "  reality  "  itself.  Formal  identity 
and  non-contradiction  signify,  in  experimental  logic, 
the  complete  correlativity  of  data  and  hypothesis.  They 
mean  that  in  the  logical  procedure  data  must  not  be 
shifted  without  a  corresponding  change  in  the  hypoth- 
esis and  conversely.  The  doctrine  that  "theoreti- 
cally "  there  may  be  any  number  of  hypotheses  for 
"the  same  facts"  is,  when  these  multiple  hypotheses 
are  anything  more  than  different  names  or  symbols, 
nothing  less  than  the  very  essence  of  formal  contra- 
diction. It  doubtless  makes  little  difference  whether  a 
disease  be  attributed  to  big  or  little,  black  or  red,  de- 
mons or  whether  the  cause  be  represented  by  a,  b,  or  c, 


98 


CREATIVE   INTELLIGENCE 


|«.'' 


etc.  But  where  data  and  hypotheses  are  such  as  are 
capable  of  verification,  i.e.,  of  mutually  checking  up 
each  other,  a  change  in  one  without  a  corresponding 
modification  of  the  other  is  the  principle  of  all  for- 
mal fallacies.* 

With  this  conception  of  the  origin,  nature,  and  func- 
tions of  logical  operations  little  remains  to  be  said  of 
their  truth  and  falsity.  If  the  whole  enterprise  of  logi- 
cal operation,  of  the  construction  and  verification  of 
hypothesis,  is  in  the  interest  of  the  removal  of  am- 
biguity, and  inhibition  in  conduct,  the  only  relevant 
truth  or  falsity  they  can  possess  must  be  determined 
by  their  success  or  failure  in  that  undertaking.  The 
acceptance  of  this  view  of  truth  and  error,  be  it  said 
again,  depends  on  holding  steadfastly  to  the  conception 
of  the  operations  of  knowing  as  real  acts,  which,  though 
having  a  distinct  character  and  function,  are  yet  in 
closest  continuity  with  other  acts  of  which  indeed  they 
are  but  modifications  and  adaptations  in  order  to  meet 
the  logical  demand. 

Here,  perhaps,  is  the  place  for  a  word  on  truth  and 
satisfaction.  The  satisfaction  which  marks  the  truth 
of  logical  operations— "  intellectual  satisfaction" — is 
the  satisfaction  which  attends  the  accomplishment  of 
their  task,  viz.,  the  removal  of  ambiguity  in  conduct, 
i.e.,  in  our  interaction  with  other  beings.  It  does  not 
mean  that  this  satisfaction  is  bound  to  be  followed  by 

♦Perhaps  the  most  complete  exhibition  of  the  breakdown  of 
formal  logic  considered  as  an  account  of  the  operation  of  thought 
apart  from  its  subject-matter  is  to  be  found  in  Schiller's  Formal 
Logic, 


t    M 


REFORMATION    OF    LOGIC 


99 


wholly  blissful  consequences.  All  our  troubles  are  not 
over  when  the  distress  of  ambiguity  is  removed.  It 
may  be  indeed  that  the  verdict  of  the  logical  operation 
is  that  we  must  face  certain  death.  Very  well,  we  must 
have  felt  it  to  be  "  good  to  know  the  worst,"  or  no 
inquiry  would  have  been  started.  We  should  have 
deemed  ignorance  bliss  and  sat  with  closed  eyes  waiting 
for  fate  to  overtake  us  instead  of  going  forward  to 
meet  it  and  in  some  measure  determine  it.  Death  an- 
ticipated and  accepted  is  realiter  very  different  from 
death  that  falls  upon  us  unawares,  however  we  may 
estimate  that  difference.  If  this  distinction  in  the  foci 
of  satisfaction  is  kept  clear  it  must  do  away  with  a 
large  amount  of  the  hedonistic  interpretations  of  satis- 
faction in  which  many  critics  have  indulged. 

But  hereupon  some  one  may  exclaim,  as  did  a  col- 
league recently :  "  Welcome  to  the  ranks  of  the  intel- 
lectualists ! "  If  so,  the  experimentalist  is  bound  to 
reply  that  he  is  as  willing,  and  as  unwilling,  to  be  wel- 
comed to  the  rcoiks  of  intellectualism  as  to  those  of 
anti-intellectualism.  He  wonders,  however,  how  long 
the  welcome  would  last  in  either.  Among  the  intellec- 
tualists  the  welcome  would  begin  to  cool  as  soon  as  it 
should  be  discovered  that  the  ambiguity  to  which  logical 
operations  are  the  response  is  not  regarded  by  the  ex- 
perimentalist as  a  purely  intellectual  affair.  It  is  an 
ambiguity  in  conduct  with  all  the  attendant  affectional 
values  that  may  be  at  stake.*  It  is,  to  be  sure,  the 
fact  of  ambiguity,  and  the  effort  to  resolve  it,  that  adds 

*  Cf.  Stuart  on  "  Valuation  as  a  Logical  Process  "  in  Studies  t» 
Logical  Theory, 


100 


CREATIVE   INTELLIGENCE 


REFORMATION    OF    LOGIC 


101 


the  intellectual,  logical  character  to  conduct  and  to 
affectional  values.  But  if  the  logical  interest  attempts 
entirely  to  detach  itself  it  will  soon  be  without  either 
subject-matter  or  criterion.  And  if  it  sets  itself  up  as 
supreme,  we  shall  be  forced  to  say  that  our  quandaries 
of  affection,  our  problems  of  life  and  death  are  merely 
to  furnish  occasions  and  material  for  logical  operations. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  welcome  of  the  anti-intellec- 
tualists  is  equally  sure  to  wane  when  the  experimental- 
ist asserts  that  the  doctrine  that  logical  operations 
mutilate  the  wholeness  of  immediate  experience  over- 
looks the  palpable  fact  that  it  is  precisely  these  imme- 
diate experiences — the  experiences  of  intuition  and  in- 
stinct— that  get  into  conflict  and  inhibit  and  mutilate 
one  another,  and  as  a  consequence  are  obliged  to  go 
into  logical  session  to  patch  up  the  mutilation  and 
provide  new  and  better  methods  of  cooperation. 

At  this  point  the  weakness  in  Bergson's  view  of  logi- 
cal operations  appears.  Bergson,  too,  is  impressed  by 
the  break  in  continuity  between  logical  operations  and 
the  rest  of  experience.  But  with  Mr.  Bradley  he  be- 
lieves this  breach  to  be  essentially  incurable,  because 
the  mutilations  and  disjunctions  are  due  to  and  intro- 
duced by  logical  operations.  Just  why  the  latter  are 
introduced  remains  in  the  end  a  mystery.  Both,  to  be 
sure,  believe  that  logical  operations  are  valuable  for 
"  practical  "  purposes, — for  action.  But,  aside  from 
the  question  of  how  operations  essentially  mutilative  can 
be  valuable  for  action,  immediate  intuitional  experience 
being  already  in  unity  with  Reality,  why  should  there 
be   any   practical  need   for  logical  operations — ^least 


of  all  such  as  introduce  disjunction  and  mutilation? 

The  admission  of  a  demand  for  logical  operations, 
whether  charged  to  matter,  the  devil,  or  any  other 
metaphysical  adversary,  is,  of  course,  a  confession  that 
conflict  and  ambiguity  are  as  fundamental  in  experience 
as  unity  and  immediacy  and  that  logical  operations 
are  therefore  no  less  indigenous.  The  failure  to  see 
this  implication  is  responsible  for  the  paradox  that  in 
the  logic  of  Creative  Evolution  the  operations  of  in- 
telligence are  neither  creative  nor  evolutional.  They 
not  only  have  no  constructive  part  but  are  positively 
destructive  and  devolutional. 

Since,  moreover,  these  logical  operations,  like  those 
of  the  objective  universal,  and  like  Mill's  association 
of  particulars,  can  only  reproduce  in  fragmentary 
form  what  has  already  been  done,  it  is  difficult  to  see 
how  they  can  meet  the  demands  of  action.  For  here 
no  more  than  in  Mill,  or  in  the  logic  of  idealism,  is 
there  any  place  for  constructive  hypotheses  or  any 
technique  by  which  they  can  become  eff^ective.  What- 
ever "  Creative  Evolution  "  may  be,  there  is  no  place 
in  its  logic  for  "  Creative  Intelligence." 

rv 

The  prominence  in  current  discussion  of  the  logical 
reforms  proposed  by  the  "  analytic  logic  "  of  the  neo- 
realistic  movement  and  the  enthusiastic  optimism  of  its 
representatives  over  the  prospective  results  of  these 
reforms  for  logic,  science,  and  practical  life  are  the  war- 
rant for  devoting  a  special  section  to  their  discussion. 

There  are  indeed  some  marked  differences  of  opinion 


102 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


among  the  expounders  of  the  "  new  logic  "  concerning 
the  results  which  it  is  expected  to  achieve.  Some  find 
that  it  clears  away  incredible  accumulations  of  meta- 
physical lumber;  others  rejoice  that  it  is  to  restore 
metaphysics,  "  once  the  queen  of  the  sciences,  to  her 
ancient  throne." 

But  whatever  the  difference  among  the  representa- 
tives of  analytical  logic  all  seem  agreed  at  the  outset 
on  two  fundamental  reforms  which  the  "  new  logic  " 
makes.  These  are:  first,  that  analytic  logic  gets  rid 
entirely  of  the  act  of  knowing,  the  retention  of  which 
has  been  the  bane  of  all  other  logics ;  second,  in  its  dis- 
covery of  "terms  and  relations,"  "sense-data  and 
universals  "  as  the  simple  elements  not  only  of  logic 
but  of  the  world,  it  furnishes  science  at  last  with 
the  simple  neutral  elements  at  large  which  it  is  supposed 
science  so  long  has  sought,  and  "  mourned  because  it 
found  them  not." 

Taking  these  in  order,  we  are  told  that  "  realism  frees 
logic  as  a  study  of  objective  fact  from  all  accounts  of 
the  states  and  operations  of  mind."  ..."  Logic  and 
mathematics  are  sciences  which  can  be  pursued  quite 
independently  of  the  study  of  knowing."  *  "  The  new 
logic  believes  that  it  deals  with  no  such  entities  as 
thoughts,  ideas,  or  minds,  but  with  entities  that  merely 


"  ♦ 


are. 

The  motive  for  the  banishment  of  the  act  of  knowing 
from  logic  is  that  as   an  act  knowing  is  "  mental," 

psychological,"  and  "  subjective."  f    All  other  logics 

•  The  New  Realism,  pp.  40-41. 

tCf.   Montague,   pp.  256-57;  al3o   Russell,   The  Problems  of 


« 


REFORMATION    OF    LOGIC 


108 


have  indeed  realized  this  subjective  character  of  the  act 
of  knowing,  but  have  neither  dared  completely  to  dis- 
card it  nor  been  able  sufficiently  to  counteract  its  ef- 
fects even  with  such  agencies  as  the  objective  universal 
to  prevent  it  from  infecting  logic  with  its  subjectivity. 
Because  logic  has  tolerated  and  attempted  to  compro- 
mise with  this  subjective  act  of  knowing,  say  these 
reformers,  it  has  been  forced  constantly  into  episte- 
mology  and  has  become  a  hybrid  science.  Had  logic 
possessed  the  courage  long  ago  to  throw  overboard  this 
subjective  Jonah  it  would  have  been  spared  the  storms 
of  epistemology  and  the  reefs  of  metaphysics. 

Analytic  logic  is  the  first  attempt  in  the  history  of 
modern  logical  theory  at  a  deliberate,  sophisticated  ex- 
clusion of  the  act  of  knowing  from  logic.  Other  logics, 
to  be  sure,  have  tried  to  neutralize  the  effects  of  its 
presence,  but  none  has  had  the  temerity  to  cast  it  bodily 
overboard.  The  experiment,  therefore,  is  highly  inter- 
esting. 

We  should  note  at  the  outset  that  in  regarding  the 
act  of  knowing  as  incurably  "  psychical "  and  "  sub- 
jective "  analytic  logic  accepts  a  fundamental  premise 
of  the  logics  of  rationalism,  empiricism,  and  idealism 
which  it  seeks  to  reform.  It  is  true  that  it  is  the 
bold  proposal  of  analytic  logic  to  keep  logic  out 
of  the  pit  of  epistemology  by  excluding  the 
act  of  knowing  from  logic.  Nevertheless  analytic 
logic  still  accepts  the  subjective  character  of  this 
act;  and  if  it  excludes  it  from  its  logic  it  welcomes  it 

Philotophy,  pp.  27-65-66,  et  paanm;  and  Holt's  Concept  of  Conr 
ecioueneee,  pp.  14ff.,  discussed  below. 


104 


CREATIVE .  INTELLIGENCE 


in  its  psychology.  This  is  a  dangerous  situation.  Can 
the  analytic  logician  prevent  all  osmosis  between  his 
logic  and  his  psychology?  *  If  not,  and  if  the  psy- 
chological act  is  subjective,  woe  then  to  his  logic. 
Had  the  new  logic  begun  with  a  bold  challenge  of  the 
psychical  character  of  the  act  of  knowing,  the  prospect 
of  a  logic  free  from  cpistemology  would  have  been 
much  brighter. 

With  the  desire  to  rid  logic  of  the  epistemological 
taint  the  "  experimental  logic  "  of  the  pragmatic  move- 
ment has  the  strongest  sympathy.  But  the  proposal  to 
effect  this  by  the  excision  of  the  act  of  knowing  appears 
to  experimental  logic  to  be  a  case  of  heroic  but  fatal 
surgery.  Prima  facie  a  logic  with  no  act  of  knowing 
presents  an  uncanny  appearance.  What  sort  of  logi- 
cal operations  are  possible  in  such  a  logic  and  of  what 
kind  of  truth  and  falsity  are  they  capable? 

Before  taking  up  these  questions  in  detail  it  is  worth 
while  to  note  the  character  of  the  entities  that  "  merely 
are  "  with  which  analytic  logic  proposes  exclusively  to 
deal.  In  their  general  form  they  are  "  terms  "  and 
"  propositions,"  "  sense-data  "  and  universals.  We  are 
struck  at  once  by  the  fact  that  these  entities  bear  the 
names  of  logical  operations.  They  are,  to  be  sure,  dis- 
guised as  entities  and  have  been  baptised  in  a  highly 
dilute  solution  of  objectivity  called  "  subsistence." 
But  this  does  not  conceal  their  origin,  nor  does  it  ob- 


♦Cf.  Angell,  "Relations  of  Psychology  to  Philosophy,"  De- 
eennwl  Publicatioru  of  UniverMty  of  Chicago,  Vol.  Ill;  also 
Castro,  "The  Respective  Standpoints  of  Psychology  and  Logic,** 
Philosophic  Studiet,  University  of  Chicago,  No.  4. 


REFORMATION    OF    LOGIC 


105 


scure  the  fact  that  if  it  is  possible  for  any  entities 
that  "merely  are"  to  have  logical  character  those 
made  from  hypostatized  processes  of  logical  opera- 
tions should  be  the  most  promising.  They  might 
be  expected  to  retain  some  vestiges  of  logical  char- 
acter even  after  they  have  been  torn  from  the  process 
of  inquiry  and  converted  into  "entities  that  merely 
are."  Also  it  is  not  surprising  that  having  stripped 
the  act  of  knowing  of  its  constituent  operations 
analytic  logic  should  feel  that  it  can  well  dispense 
with  the  empty  shell  called  "  mind  "  and,  as  Professor 
Dewey  says,  "wish  it  on  psychology."  But  if  the 
analytic  logician  be  also  a  philosopher  and  perchance 
a  lover  of  his  fellow-man,  it  is  hard  to  see  how  he  can 
have  a  good  conscience  over  this  disposition  of  the 
case. 

Turning  now  to  the  character  of  inference  and  of 
truth  and  falsity  which  are  possible  in  a  logic  which 
excludes  the  operation  of  knowing  and  deals  only  with 
"  entities  that  are,"  all  the  expounders  seem  to  agree 
that  in  such  a  logic  inference  must  be  purely  deductive. 
All  alleged  induction  is  either  disguised  deduction  or 
a  lucky  guess.  This  raises  apprehension  at  the 
start  concerning  the  value  of  analytic  logic  for  other 
sciences.  But  let  us  observe  what  deduction  in  analytic 
logic  is. 

We  begin  at  once  with  a  distinction  which  involves 
the  whole  issue.*     We  are  asked  to  carefully  distin- 

*  I  am  here  following,  in  the  main.  Professor  Holt  because  he 
alone  appears  to  have  had  the  courage  to  develop  the  full  con- 
sequences of  the  premises  of  analytic  logic. 


106 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


REFORMATION    OF    LOGIC 


107 


guish  "  logical "  deduction  from  "  psychological  *'  de- 
duction. The  latter  is  the  vulgar  meaning  of  the  term, 
and  is  "  the  thinker's  name  for  his  own  act  of  conform- 
ing his  thought "  to  the  objective  and  independent  proc- 
esses that  constitute  the  real  logical  process.  This  act 
of  conforming  the  mind  is  a  purely  "  psychological " 
affair.  It  has  no  logical  function  whatever.  In  what 
the  "  conforming  "  consists  is  not  clear.  It  seems  to  be 
merely  the  act  of  turning  the  "  psychological "  eye  on 
the  objective  logical  process.  "One  beholds  it  (the 
logical  process)  as  one  beholds  a  star,  a  river,  a  charac- 
ter in  a  play.  .  .  .  The  novelist  and  the  dramatist, 
like  the  mathematician  and  logician,  are  onlookers  at 
the  logical  spectacle."  ♦  On  the  other  hand,  the  term 
"  conforming "  suggests  a  task,  with  the  possibilities 
of  success  and  failure.  Have  we,  then,  two  wholly  in- 
dependent possibilities  of  error — one  merely  "  psycho- 
logical," the  other  "  logical  "?  The  same  point  may  be 
made  even  more  obviously  with  reference  to  the  term 
*'  beholding."  The  term  is  used  as  if  beholding  were  a  per- 
fectly simple  act,  having  no  problems  and  no  possibili- 
ties of  mistakes — as  if  there  could  be  no  mis-beholding.f 
But  fixing  our  psychological  eye  on  the  "  logical 

*  The  Concept  of  Consciousness,  pp.  14-15. 

t  It  is  interesting  to  compare  this  onlooking  act  with  the  ac- 
count of  consciousness  further  on.  As  **  psychological "  this  act 
of  onlooking  must  be  an  act  of  consciousness.  But  consciousness 
is  a  cross-section  or  a  projection  of  things  made  by  their  inter- 
action with  a  nervous  system.  Here  consciousness  is  a  function 
of  all  the  interacting  factors.  It  is  in  the  play.  It  is  the  play. 
It  is  not  in  a  spectator's  box.  How  can  consciousness  be  a  func- 
tion of  all  the  things  put  into  the  cross-section  and  yet  be  a 
mere  beholder  of  the  process?    Moreover,  what  is  it  that  makes 


spectacle,"  what  does  it  behold?  A  universal  generat- 
ing an  infinite  series  of  identical  instances  of  itself — i.e., 
instances  which  differ  only  in  "  logical  position."  If  in 
a  world  of  entities  that  "  merely  are  "  the  term  "  gen- 
eration "  causes  perplexity, the  tension  is  soon  relieved; 
for  this  turns  out  to  be  a  merely  subsistential  non- 
temporal  generation  which,  like  Hegel's  generation  of 
the  categories,  in  no  way  compromises  a  world  of  enti- 
ties that  "  merely  are." 

Steering  clear  of  the  thicket  of  metaphysical  prob- 
lems that  we  here  encounter,  let  us  keep  to  the  logical 
trail.  First  it  is  clear  that  logical  operations 
are  of  the  same  reproductive  repetitive  type  that  we 
have  found  in  the  associational  logic  of  empiricism,  and 
in  the  logic  of  the  objective  universal.  Indeed,  after 
objective  idealism  has  conceded  that  the  finite  mind 
merely  "  witnesses  "  or  at  most  contributes  only  in  an 
"infinitesimal"  degree  to  the  logical  activity  of  the 
objective  universal,  what  remains  of  the  supposed  gulf 
between  absolute  idealism  and  analytic  realism.? 

It  follows,  of  course,  that  there  can  be  no  place  in 
analytic  logic  for  "  procedure  by  hypotheses."  How- 
ever, it  is  to  the  credit  of  some  analytic  logicians  that 
they  see  this  and  frankly  accept  the  situation  instead 
of  attempting  to  retain  hypotheses  by  making  them  "  ac- 
cidents "  or  mere  "  auxiliaries  "  of  inference.  On  the 
other  hand,  others  find  that  the  chief  glory  of  analytic 
logic  is  precisely  that  it  "  gives  thought  wings  "♦  for 

any  particular,  spectacle,  or  cross-section  "logical'*?     If  it  be 
said  all  are  "logical"  what  significance  has  the  term? 
•Cf.  Rusaell^s  Scientific  Methods  in  Philosophy,  p.  59. 


108 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


the  free  construction  of  hypotheses.  In  his  lectures  on 
"  Scientific  Methods  in  Philosophy  "  Mr.  Russell  calls 
some  of  the  most  elemental  and  sacred  entities  of  analytic 
logic  "  convenient  fictions."  This  retention  of  hypothe- 
ses at  the  cost  of  cogency  is  of  course  in  order  to  avoid 
a  break  with  science.  Those  who  see  that  there  is  no 
place  in  analytic  logic  for  hypotheses  are  equally  anx- 
ious to  preserve  their  connections  with  science.  Hence 
they  boldly  challenge  the  "  superstition  "  that  science 
has  anything  to  do  with  hypotheses.  Newton's  "  Hy^ 
potheses  non  jingo  "  should  be  the  motto  of  every  con- 
scientious scientist  who  dares  "  trust  his  own  percep- 
tions and  disregard  the  ukase  of  idealism."  "  The 
theory  of  mental  construction  is  the  child  of  idealism, 
now  put  out  to  service  for  the  support  of  its  parents." 
**  Theory  is  no  longer  regarded  in  science  as  an  hy- 
pothesis added  to  the  observed  facts,"  but  a  law  which 
is  "  found  in  the  facts."  *  The  identity  of  this  with 
Mill's  doctrine  of  hypotheses  as  "  found  in  things " 
is  obvious. 

As  against  the  conception  of  hypotheses  as  "  free," 
"  winged,"  constructions  of  a  psychical,  beholding,  gos- 
siping mind  we  may  well  take  our  stand  with  those  who 
would  exclude  such  hypotheses  from  science.  And  this 
doubtless  was  the  sort  of  mind  and  sort  of  hypotheses 
Newton  meant  when  he  said  "  Hypotheses  non  jingo.**  \ 
But  had  Newton's  mind  really  been  of  the  character 
which  he,  as  a  physicist,  had  learned  from  philosophers 


•  Holt,  op.  cit.,  pp.  128-30. 

tin  fact,  Newton,  in  all  probability,  had  the  Cartesian  pur« 
notions  in  mind. 


REFORMATION    OF    LOGIC 


109 


to  suppose  it  to  be,  and  had  he  really  waited  to  find  his 
hypotheses  ready-made  in  the  facts,  there  never  would 
have  been  any  dispute  about  who  discovered  the  calcu- 
lus, and  we  should  never  have  been  interested  in  what 
Newton  said  about  hypotheses  or  anything  else.  What 
Newton  did  is  a  much  better  source  of  information  on 
the  part  hypotheses  play  in  scientific  method  than 
what  he  said  about  them.  The  former  speaks  for  itself; 
the  latter  is  the  pious  repetition  of  a  metaphysical  creed 
made  necessary  by  the  very  separation  of  mind  from 
things  expressed  in  the  statement  quoted. 

Logically  there  is  little  to  choose  between  hypothe- 
ses found  ready-made  in  the  facts  and  those  which  are 
the  "  winged  "  constructions  of  a  purely  psychical  mind. 
Both  are  equally  useless  in  logic  and  in  science.  One 
makes  logic  and  science  "  trifling,"  the  other  makes 
them  "  miraculous."  But  if  hypotheses  be  conceived 
not  as  the  output  of  a  cloistered  psychical  entity  but  as 
the  joint  product  of  all  the  beings  and  operations 
involved  in  the  specific  situation  in  which  logical 
inquiry  originates,  and  more  particularly  in  all  those 
involved  in  the  operations  of  the  inquiry  itself  (includ- 
ing all  the  experimental  material  and  apparatus  which 
the  inquiry  may  require),  we  shall  have  sufficient  con- 
tinuity between  hypotheses  and  things  to  do  away  with 
miracle,  and  sufficient  reconstruction  to  avoid  inference 
that  is  trifling. 

It  is,  however,  the  second  contribution  of  analytic 
log^c  that  is  the  basis  of  the  enthusiasm  over  its  pro- 
spective value  for  other  sciences.  This  is  the  discovery 
that  terms  and  propositions,  sense-data,  and  univer- 


110 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


sals,  are  not  only  elements  of  logical  operation  but  are 
the  simple,  neutral  elements  at  large  which  science  is 
supposed  to  have  been  seeking.  ^^  As  the  botanist  an- 
alyzes the  structures  of  the  vegetable  organism  and 
finds  chemical  compounds  of  which  they  are  built  so 
the  ordinary  chemist  analyzes  these  compounds  into 
their  elements,  but  does  not  analyze  these.  The  physi- 
cal chemist  analyzes  these  elemental  atoms,  as  now  ap- 
pears, into  minuter  components  which  he  in  turn  must 
leave  to  the  mathematicians  and  logicians  further  to 
analyze,**  ♦ 

Again  it  is  worth  noting  that  this  mutation  of 
logical  into  ontological  elements  seems  to  differ 
only  "  in  position "  from  the  universal  logicism  of 
absolute  idealism. 

What  are  these  simple  elements  into  which  the 
mathematician  and  logician  are  to  analyze  the  crude 
elements  of  the  laboratory?  And  how  are  these  ele- 
,  ments  to  be  put  into  operation  in  the  laboratory  ?  Let 
us  picture  an  analytic  logician  meeting  a  physical 
scientist  at  a  moment  when  the  latter  is  distressed  over 
the  unmanageable  complexity  of  his  elements.  Will 
,the  logician  say  to  the  scientist:  "Your  difficulty  is 
that  you  are  trusting  too  much  to  your  mundane  ap- 
paratus. The  kingdom  of  truth  cometh  not  with  such 
things.  Forsake  your  microscopes,  test  tubes,  refrac- 
tors and  resonators,  and  follow  me,  and  you  shall  behold 
the  truly  simple  elements  of  which  you  have  dreamed."  ? 
And  when  the  moment  of  revelation  arrives  and  the 

♦  Holt,  op.  cit,  p.  118  (italics  mine).    Of.  also  Perry's  Pretent 
Philoiophical  Tendencies,  pp.  108  and  311. 


REFORMATION    OF    LOGIC 


111 


expectant  scientist  is  solemnly  told  that  the  "  simple 
elements  "  which  he  has  sought  so  long  are  "  terms  and 
propositions,"  sense-data  and  universals,  is  it  surpris- 
ing that  he  does  not  seem  impressed?  Will  he  not  ask: 
"  What  am  I  to  do  with  these  in  the  specific  difficulties 
of  my  laboratory?  Shall  I  say  to  the  crude  and  com- 
plex elements  of  my  laboratory  operations :  ^  Be  ye  re- 
solved into  terms  and  propositions,  sense-data  and 
universals ' ;  and  will  they  forthwith  obey  this  incanta- 
tion and  fall  apart  so  that  I  may  locate  and  remove 
the  hidden  source  of  my  difficulty?  Are  you  not  mock- 
ing me  and  deceiving  yourself  with  the  old  ontological 
argument?  Your  '  simple  '  elements — are  they  anything 
but  the  hypostatized  process  by  which  elements  may 

be  found?"* 

The  expounders  as  well  as  the  critics  of  analytic 
logic  have  agreed  that  it  reaches  its  most  critical  junc- 
tion when  it  faces  the  problem  of  truth  and  error. 
There  is  no  doubt  that  the  logic  of  objective  idealism,  in 
other  respects  so  similar  to  analytic  logic,  has  at  this 
point  an  advantage;  for  it  retains  just  enough  of  the 
finite  operation  of  knowing — an  "infinitesimal"  part 
will  answer — to  furnish  the  culture  germs  of  error. 
But  analytic  logic  having  completely  sterilized  itself 
against  this  source  of  infection  is  in  serious  difficulty. 

Here  again  it  is  Professor  Holt  who  has  the  cour- 
age to  follow — or  shall  we  say  "  behold  "? — ^his  theory 
as  it  "  generates  "  the  doctrine  that  error  is  a  given 
objective  opposition  of  forces  entirely  independent  of 

♦  The  character  of  elements  and  the  nature  of  simplicity  have 
been  discussed  in  the  preceding  section. 


tll2 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


REFORMATION    OF    LOGIC 


118 


any  such  thing  as  a  process  of  inquiry  and  all  that  such 
a  process  presupposes.  "  All  collisions  between  bodies, 
all  inference  between  energies,  all  process  of  warming 
and  cooling,  of  starting  and  stopping,  of  combining 
and  separating,  all  counterbalancings,  as  in  canti- 
levers and  gothic  vaultings,  are  contradictory  forces 
which  can  be  stated  only  in  propositions  that  mani- 
festly contradict  each  other."  ♦  But  the  argument 
proves  too  much.  For  in  the  world  of  forces 
to  which  we  have  here  appealed  there  is  no 
force  which  is  not  opposed  by  others  and  no 
particle  which  is  not  the  center  of  opposing  forces. 
Hence  error  is  ubiquitous.  In  making  error  objective 
we  have  made  all  objectivity  erroneous.  We  find  our- 
selves obliged  to  say  that  the  choir  of  Westminster 
Abbey,  the  Brooklyn  bridge,  the  heads  on  our  shoul- 
ders are  all  supported  by  logical  errors! 

Following  these  illustrations  of  ontological  contra- 
dictions there  is  indeed  this  interesting  statement: 
"  Nature  is  so  full  of  these  mutually  negative  processes 
that  we  are  moved  to  admiration  when  a  few  forces  co- 
operate long  enough  to  form  what  we  call  an  organ- 
ism."f  The  implication  is,  apparently,  that  as  an 
"  opposition  "  of  forces  is  error,  "  cooperation  "  of 
forces  is  truth.  But  what  is  to  distinguish  "  opposi- 
tion "  from  "  cooperation  "  ?  In  the  illustration  it  is 
clear  that  opposing  forces — error — do  not  interfere 
with  cooperative  forces — truth.  Where  should  we  find 
more  counterbalancing,  more  starting  and  stopping, 
warming    and    cooling,    combining    and    separating 


♦  Ibid,,  p.  975. 


t  Ibid.,  p.  275. 


than  in  an  organism?  And  if  these  processes 
can  be  stated  only  in  propositions  that  are 
**  manifestly  contradictory,"  are  we  to  under- 
stand that  truth  has  errors  for  its  constituent 
elements?  Such  paradoxes  have  always  delighted  the 
soul  of  absolute  idealism.  But,  as  w^  have  seen,  only 
the  veil  of  an  infinitesimal  finitude  intervenes  between  the 
logic  of  the  objective  universal  of  absolute  idealism 
and  the  objective  logic  of  analytic  realism. 

It  is,  of  course,  this  predicament  regarding 
objective  truth  and  error  that  has  driven  most 
analytic  logicians  to  recall  the*  exiled  psycho- 
logical, "mental"  act  of  knowing.  It  had  to  be 
recalled  to  provide  some  basis  of  distinction 
between  truth  and  error,  but,  this  act  having  already 
been  conceived  as  incurably  "  subjective,"  the  result 
is  only  an  exchange  of  dilemmas.  For  the  reinstatement 
of  this  act  ipso  facto  reinstates  the  epistemological 
predicament  to  get  rid  of  which  it  was  first  banished 
from  logic. 

Earnest  efforts  to  escape  this  outcome  have  been 
made  by  attaching  the  act  of  knowing  to  the  nervous 
system,  and  this  is  a  move  in  the  right  direction.  But 
80  far  the  effort  has  been  fruitless  because  no  connec- 
tion has  been  made  between  the  knowing  function  of 
the  nervous  system  and  its  other  functions.  The  result 
is  that  the  cognitive  operation  of  the  nervous  system, 
as  of  the  "  psychical  '*  mind,  is  that  of  a  mere  spec- 
tator; and  the  epistemological  problem  abides.  An 
onlooking  nervous  system  has  no  advantage  over  an 
"  onlooking  "  mind.     Onlooking,  beholding  may  indeed 


114 


CREATIVE   INTELLIGENCE 


be  a  part  of  a  genuine  act  of  knowing.  But  in  that 
act  it  is  always  a  stimulus  or  response  to  other  acts. 
It  is  one  of  them; — never  a  mere  spectator  of  them. 
It  is  when  the  act  of  knowing  is  cut  off  from  its  con- 
nection with  other  acts  and  finds  itself  adrift  that  it 
seeks  metaphysical  lodgings.  And  this  it  may  find 
either  in  an  empty  psychical  mind  or  in  an  equally 
empty  body.* 

If,  in  reinstating  the  act  of  knowing  as  a  function 
of  the  nervous  system,  neo-realism  had  recognized  the 
logical  significance  of  the  fact  that  the  nervous  sys- 
tem of  which  knowing  is  a  function  is  the  same  nervous 
system  of  which  loving  and  hating,  desiring  and  striv- 
ing are  functions  and  that  the  transition  from  these 
to  the  operations  of  inquiry  and  knowing  is  not  a 
capricious  jump  but  a  transition  motived  by  the  lov- 
ing and  hating,  desiring  and  striving — if  this  had  been 
recognized  the  logic  of  neo-realism  would  have  been 
spared  its  embarrassments  over  the  distinction  of  truth 

♦This  lack  of  continuity  between  the  cognitive  function  of 
the  nervous  system  and  its  other  functions  accounts  for  the 
strange  paradox  in  the  logic  of  neo-realism  of  an  act  of  knowing 
which  is  "subjective"  and  yet  is  the  act  of  so  palpably  an 
objective  affair  as  a  nervous  system.  The  explanation  is  that 
the  essence  of  all  deprecated  subjectivity  is,  as  before  pointed 
out,  functional  isolation.  That  this  sort  of  subjectivity  should 
be  identified  with  the  "psychical**  is  not  strange,  since  a  living 
organism  is  very  difficult  to  isolate,  while  the  term  "psychical," 
in  its  metaphysical  sense,  seems  to  stand  for  little  else  than  just 
this  complete  isolation.  Having  once  appealed  to  the  nervous 
system  it  seems  incredible  that  the  physiological  continuity  of  its 
functions  with  each  other  and  with  its  environment  should  not 
have  suggested  the  logical  corollary.  Only  the  force  of  the 
prepossession  of  mathematical  atomism  in  analytic  logic  can 
account  for  its  failure  to  do  so. 


REFORMATION    OF    LOGIC 


115 


and  error.  It  would  have  seen  that  the  passage 
from  loving  and  hating,  desiring  and  striving  to  in- 
quiry and  knowing  is  made  in  order  to  renew  and  re- 
form specific  desires  and  strivings  which,  through 
confiict  and  consequent  equivocation,  have  become 
fruitless  and  vain ;  and  it  must  have  seen  that  the  re- 
sults of  the  inquiry  are  true  or  false  as  they  succeed 
or  fail  in  this  reformation  and  renewal. 

But  once  more,  it  must  steadily  be  kept  in  view  that 
while  the   loving   and  hating,   desiring   and  striving, 
which  the  logical  operations  are  reforming  and  renew- 
ing, are  functions  of  the  nervous  system,  they  are  not 
functions  of  the  nervous  system  alone,  else  the  door 
of  subjectivism   again   closes   upon   us.     Loving   and 
hating,   desiring   and   striving  have   their   "  objects.'* 
Hence  any  reformation  of  these  functions  involves  no 
less  a  reformation  of  their  objects.     When  therefore 
we  say  that  truth  and  error  are  relevant  to  desires 
and  strivings,  this  means  relevant  to  them  as  includ- 
ing their  objects,  not  as  entitized  processes  (such  are 
the  pitfalls  of  language)  inclosed  in  a  nervous  system 
or  mind.     With  this  before  us  the  relevance  of  truth 
and  error  to  desires  and  strivings  can  never  be  made 
the  basis  for  the  charge  of  subjectivism.    The  concep- 
tion of  desires  as  peculiarly  individual  and  subjective 
is  a  survival  of  the  very  isolation  which  is  the  source 
of  the  difficulty  with  truth  and  error.     Hence  the  ap- 
peal to  this  isolation,  made  alike  by  idealism  and  real- 
ism, in  charging  instrumental  logic  with  subjectivism 
is  an  elementary  petitio. 

Doubtless  it  will  be  urged  again  that  the  act  of 


116 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


REFORMATION    OF    LOGIC 


117 


knowing  is  motived  by  an  independent  desire  and  striv- 
ing of  its  own.  This  is  of  course  consonant  with  the 
neo-realistic  atomism,  however  inconsonant  it  may  be 
with  the  conception  of  implication  which  it  employs. 
If  we  take  a  small  enough,  isolated  segment  of  ex- 
perience we  can  find  meaning  for  this  notion,  as  we 
may  for  the  idea  that  the  earth  is  flat  and  that  the 
sun  moves  around  the  earth.  But  as  consequences  ac- 
crue we  find  as  great  difficulties  with  the  one  as  with 
the  other.  If  the  course  of  events  did  not  bring  us  to 
book,  if  we  could  get  off  with  a  mere  definition  of  truth 
and  error  we  might  go  on  piling  up  subsistential  defi- 
nitional logics  world  without  end.  But  sublime  ad- 
venturers, logically  unregenerate  and  uninitiated,  will 
go  on  sailing  westward  to  the  confusion  and  confound- 
ing of  all  definitional  systems  that  leave  them  out  of 
account. 

The  conclusion  is  plain.  If  logic  is  to  have  room 
in  its  household  for  both  truth  and  error,  if  it  is  to 
avoid  the  old  predicament  of  knowledge  that  is  trifling 
or  miraculous,  tautologous  or  false,  if  it  is  to  have  no 
fear  of  the  challenge  of  other  sciences  or  of  practical 
life,  it  must  be  content  to  take  for  its  subject-matter 
the  operations  of  intelligence  conceived  as  real  acts 
on  the  same  metaphysical  plane  and  in  strictest  con- 
tinuity with  other  acts.  Such  a  logic  will  not  fear 
the  challenge  of  science,  for  it  is  precisely  this  con- 
tinuity that  makes  possible  experimentation,  which  is 
the  fundamental  characteristic  of  scientific  procedure. 
Science  without  experiment  is  indeed  a  strange  ap- 
parition.     It   is   a  Xoyoi  with   no  Xiyeiv,  a   science 


with  no  scire;  and  this  spells  dogmatism.    How  neces- 
sary such  continuity  is  to  experimentation  is  apparent 
when  we  recall  that  there  is  no  limit  to  the  range  of 
operations  of  every  sort  which  scientific  experiment 
calls  into  play ;  and  that  unless  there  be  thoroughgoing 
continuity  between  the  logical  demand  of  the  experi- 
ment and  all  the  materials  and  devices  employed  in  the 
process  of  the  experiment,  the  operations  of  the  latter 
in  the  experiment  will  be  either  miraculous  or  ruinous. 
Finally,  if  this  continuity  of  the  operations  of  in- 
telligence with  other  operations  be  essential  to  science, 
its  relation  to  "  practical  "  life  is  ipso  facto  established. 
For  science  is  "practical"  life  aware  of  its  prob- 
lems and  aware  of  the  part  that  experimental— i.e., 
creative— intelligence  plays  in  the  solution  of  those 
problems. 


INTELLIGENCE  AND  MATHEMATICS 

HAROLD  CHAPMAN  BROWN 

Herbaet  is  said  to  have  given  the  deathblow  to 
faculty  psychology.  Man  no  longer  appears  endowed 
with  volition,  passion,  desire,  and  reason;  and  logic, 
deprived  of  its  hereditary  right  to  elucidate  the  opera- 
tions of  inherent  intelligence,  has  the  new  problem  of 
investigating  forms  of  intelligence  in  the  making.  This 
is  no  inconsequential  task.  "If  man  originally  pos- 
sesses only  capacities  which  after  a  given  amount  of 
education  will  produce  ideas  and  judgments  "  (Thorn- 
dike,  Educational  Psychology,  Vol.  I,  p.  198),  and  if 
these  ideas  and  judgments  are  to  be  substituted  for 
a  mythical  intelligence  it  follows  that  tracing  their  de- 
velopment and  observing  their  functioning  renders 
clearer  our  conception  of  their  nature  and  value  and 
brings  us  nearer  that  exact  knowledge  of  what  we 
are  talking  about  in  which  the  philosopher  at  least 
aspires  to  equal  the  scientist,  however  much  he  may  fall 
below  his  ideal. 

For  contemporary  thought  concerning  the  mathe- 
matical sciences  this  altered  point  of  view  generates 
peculiarly  pressing  problems.  Mathematicians  have 
weighed  the  old  logic  and  found  it  wanting.  They  have 
builded  themselves  a  new  logic  more  adequate  to  their 
ends.  But  they  have  not  whole-heartedly  recognized 
the  change  that  has  come  about  in  psychology;  hence 

118 


INTELLIGENCE  AND  MATHEMATICS      119 

they  have  retained  the  faculty  of  intelligence  knit  into 
certain  indefinables  such  as  implication,  relation,  class, 
term,  and  the  like,  and  have  transported  the  faculty 
from  the  human  soul  to  a  mysterious  realm  of  subsist- 
ence whence  it  radiates  its  ghostly  light  upon  the  realm 
of  existence  below.     But  while  they  reproach  the  old 
logic,  often  bitterly,  their  new  logic  merely  furnishes 
a  more  adequate  show-case  in  which  already  attained 
knowledge  may  be  arranged  to  set  off  its  charms  for 
the   observer  in  the  same  way  that   specimens  in   a 
museum  are  displayed  before  an  admiring  world.    This 
statement  is  not  a  sweeping  condemnation,  however,  for 
such  a  setting  forth  is  not  useless.     It  resembles  the 
classificatory  stage  of  science  which,  although  not  itself 
in  the  highest  sense  creative,  often  leads  to  higher 
stages   by  bringing  under   observation  relations   and 
facts  that  might  otherwise  have  escaped  notice.     And 
in  the  realm  of  pure  mathematics,  the  new  logic  has 
undoubtedly  contributed  in  this  manner  to  such  dis- 
coveries.    Danger  appears  when  the  logician  attains 
Carthesian   intoxication   with   the   beauty   of   logico- 
mathematical  form  and  tries  to  infer  from  the  form 
itself  the  real  nature  of  the  formed  material.     The 
realm  of  subsistence  too  often  has  armed  Indefinables 
with  metaphysical  myths  whose  attack  is  valiant  when 
the  doors  of  reflection  are  opened.    It  may  be  possible, 
however,  to  arrive  at  an  understanding  of  mathematics 
without  entering  the  kingdom  of  these  warriors. 

It  is  the  essence  of  science  to  make  prediction  possi- 
ble. The  value  of  prediction  lies  in  the  fact  that 
through  this  function  man  can  control  his  environment, 


120 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


or,  at  worst,  fortify  himself  to  meet  its  vagaries.  To 
attain  such  predictions,  however,  the  world  need  not 
be  grasped  in  its  full  concreteness.  Hence  arise  proc-, 
esses  of  abstraction.  While  all  other  symptoms  remain 
unnoticed,  the  temperature  and  pulse  may  mark  a 
disease,  or  a  barometer-reading  the  weather.  The 
physicist  may  work  only  in  terms  of  quantity  in  a 
world  which  is  equally  truly  qualitative.  All  that  is 
necessary  is  to  select  the  elements  which  are  most 
effective  for  prediction  and  control.  Such  selection 
gives  the  principle  that  dominates  all  abstractions. 
Progress  is  movement  from  the  less  abstract  to  the 
more  abstract,  but  it  is  progress  only  because  the 
more  abstract  is  as  genuinely  an  aspect  of  the  con- 
crete starting-point  as  anything  is.  Moreover,  the 
outcome  of  progress  of  this  sort  cannot  be  definitely 
foreseen  at  the  beginnings.  The  simple  activities  of 
primitive  men  have  to  be  spontaneously  performed  be- 
fore their  value  becomes  evident.  Only  afterwards  can 
they  be  cultivated  for  the  sake  of  their  value,  and  then 
only  can  the  self-conscious  cultivation  of  a  science  be- 
gin. The  process  remains  full  not  only  of  perplexities, 
but  of  surprises ;  men's  activities  lead  to  goals  far  other 
than  those  which  appear  at  the  start.  These  goals, 
however,  never  deny  the  method  by  which  the  start  is 
made.  Developed  intelligence  is  nothing  but  skill  in 
using  a  set  of  concepts  generated  in  this  manner.  In 
this  sense  the  histories  of  all  human  endeavors  run 
parallel. 

Where  the  empirical  bases  of  a  science  are  continu- 
ally in  the  foreground,  as  in  physics  or  chemistry,  the 


INTELLIGENCE  AND  MATHEMATICS      121 

foregoing  formulation  of  procedure  is  intelligible  and 
acceptable  to  most  men.     Mathematics  seem,  however, 
to  stand  peculiarly  apart.    Many,  with  Descartes,  have 
delighted  in  them  "on  account  of  the  certitude  and 
evidence   of   their   reasonings"    and   recognized  their 
contribution  to  the  advancement  of  mechanical  arts. 
But  since  the  days  of  Kant  even  this  value  has  become 
a  problem,  and  many  a  young  philosophic  student  has 
the  question  laid  before  him  as  to  why  it  is  that  mathe- 
matics,   "  a   purely   conceptual    science,"    can   tell   us 
anything  about  the  character  of  a  world  which  is,  ap- 
parently at  least,  free  from  the  idiosyncrasies  of  in- 
dividual mind.     It  may  be  that  mathematics  began  in 
empirical  practice,  such  philosophers  admit,  but  they 
add  that,  somehow,  in  its  later  career,  it  has  escaped 
its  lowly  origin.    Now  it  moves  in  the  higher  circles  of 
postulated   relations   and   arbitrarily   defined  entities 
to  which  its  humble  progenitors  and  relatives  are  denied 
the  entree.    Parvenus,  however,  usually  bear  with  them 
the  mark  of  history,  and  in  the  case  of  this  one,  at 
least,  we  may  hope  that  the  history  will  be  sufficient  to 
drag  it  from  the  affectations  of  its  newly  acquired  set 
and  reinstate  it  in  its  proper  place  in  the  workaday 
world.     For  the  sake  of  this  hope,  we  shall  take  the 
risk  of  being  tedious  by  citing  certain  striking  mo- 
ments of  mathematical  progress;  and  then  we  shall 
try  to  interpret  its  genuine  status  in  the  world  of 
working  truths. 


122 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


Beginnings  of  Abithmetic  and  Geometet 

The  most  primitive  mathematical  activity  of  man  is 
counting,  but  here  his  first  efforts  are  lost  in  the  ob- 
scurity of  the  past.  The  lower  races,  however,  yield 
us  evidence  that  is  not  without  value.  Although 
the  savage  mind  is  not  identical  with  the  mind  of  primi- 
tive man,  there  is  much  in  the  activities  of  undeveloped 
races  that  can  throw  light  upon  the  behavior  of  peo- 
ples more  advanced.  We  must  be  careful  in  our  infer- 
ences, however.  Among  the  Australians  and  South 
Americans  there  are  peoples  whose  numerical  systems 
go  little,  or  not  at  all,  beyond  the  first  two  or  three 
numbers.  "  It  has  been  inferred  from  this,"  writes 
Professor  Boas  {Mind  of  Primitive  Man,  pp.  152-53), 
"  that  the  people  speaking  these  languages  are  not 
capable  of  forming  the  concept  of  higher  num- 
bers. .  .  .  People  like  the  South  American  Indians, 
.  .  .  or  like  the  Esquimo  ...  are  presumably 
not  in  need  of  higher  numerical  expressions,  because 
there  are  not  many  objects  that  they  have  to  count. 
On  the  other  hand,  just  as  soon  as  these  same  people 
find  themselves  in  contact  with  civilization,  alW  when 
they  acquire  standards  of  value  that  have  to  be 
counted,  they  adopt  with  perfect  ease  higher  numerals 
from  other  languages,  and  develop  a  more  or  less  per- 
fect system  of  counting.  ...  It  must  be  borne  in 
mind  that  counting  does  not  become  necessary  until 
objects  are  considered  in  such  generalized  form  that 
their  individualities  are  entirely  lost  sight  of.    For  this 


INTELLIGENCE  AND  MATHEMATICS      123 

reason  it  is  possible  that  even  a  person  who  owns  a 
herd  of  domesticated  animals  may  know  them  by  name 
and  by  their  characteristics,  without  even  desiring  to 

count  them.'* 

And  there  is  one  other  false  interpretation  to  be 
avoided.     Man  does  not  feel  the  need  of  counting  and 
then  develop  a  system  of  numerals  to  meet  the  need. 
Such  an  assumption  is  as  ridiculous  as  to  assume  pre- 
historic man  thinking  to  himself:     "I  must  speak," 
and  then  inventing  voice  culture  and  grammar  to  make 
speaking  pleasant  and  possible.    Rather,  when  powers 
of  communication  are  once  attained,  presumably  in 
their  beginnings  also  without  forethought,  man  being 
still   more   animal    than   man,    there   were   gradually 
dissociated    communications    of    a   kind    approaching 
what  numbers  mean  to  us.    But  the  number  is  not  yet 
a  symbol  apart  from  that  of  the  things  numbered. 
Picture  writing,  re-representing  the  things  meant,  pre- 
ceded developmentally  any  kind  of  symbolization  rep- 
resenting the  number  by  mere  one-one  correspondence 
with  non-particularized  symbols.     It  is  plausible,  al- 
though I  have  no  anthropological  authority  for  the 
statement,  that  the  prevalence  of  finger  words  as  num- 
ber symbols  (cf.  infra)  is  originally  a  consequence  of 
the  fact  that  our  organization  makes  the  hand  the 
natural  instrument  of  pointing. 

The  difficulty  of  passing  from  concrete  representa- 
tions to  abstract  symbols  has  been  keenly  stated  by 
Conant  {The  Number  Concept,  pp.  72-73),  although 
his  terminology  is  that  of  an  old  psychology  and  the 
limitations  implied  for  the  primitive  ipind  ar^  \mi%^^ 


124 


CREATIVE   INTELLIGENCE 


tions  of  practice  rather  than  of  capacity  as  Mr.  Co- 
nant  seems  to  believe.  "An  abstract  conception  is 
something  quite  foreign  to  the  essentially  primitive 
mind,  as  missionaries  and  explorers  have  found  to  their 
chagrin.  The  savage  can  form  no  mental  concept  of 
what  civilized  man  means  by  such  a  word  as  sovl;  nor 
would  his  idea  of  the  abstract  number  5  be  much  clearer. 
When  he  says  five,  he  uses,  in  many  cases  at  least,  the 
same  word  that  serves  him  when  he  wishes  to  say  hand; 
and  his  mental  concept  when  he  says  five  is  a  hand. 
The  concrete  idea  of  a  closed  fist,  of  an  open  hand  with 
outstretched  fingers,  is  what  is  uppermost  in  his  mind. 
He  knows  no  more  and  cares  no  more  about  the  pure 
number  5  than  he  does  about  the  law  of  conservation 
of  energy.  He  sees  in  his  mental  picture  only  the  real, 
material  image,  and  his  only  comprehension  of  the 
number  is,  "  these  objects  are  as  many  as  the  fingers 
on  my  hand."  Then,  in  the  lapse  of  the  long  interval 
of  centuries  which  intervene  between  lowest  barbarism 
and  highest  civilization,  the  abstract  and  concrete  be- 
come slowly  dissociated,  the  one  from  the  other.  First 
the  actual  hand  picture  fades  away,  and  the  number 
is  recognized  without  the  original  assistance  furnished 
by  the  derivation  of  the  word.  But  the  number  is  still 
for  a  long  time  a  certain  number  of  objects,  and  not  an 
independent  concept." 

An  excellent  fur  trader's  story,  reported  to  me  by 
Mr.  Dewey,  suggests  a  further  impulse  to  count  besides 
that  given  by  the  need  of  keeping  a  tally,  namely,  the 
need  of  making  one  thing  correspond  to  another  in  a 
business  transaction.     The  Indian  laid  down  one  skin 


INTELLIGENCE  AND  MATHEMATICS      125 

and  the  trader  two  dollars;  if  he  proposed  to  count 
several  skins  at  once  and  pay  for  all  together,  the 
former  replied  "  too  much  cheatem."  The  result, 
however,  demanded  a  tally  either  by  the  fingers, 
a  pebble,  or  a  mark  made  in  the  sand,  and  as  the  mag- 
nitude of  such  transactions  grows  the  need  of  a  specific 
number  symbol  becomes  ever  more  acute. 

The  first  obstacle,  then,  to  overcome — and  it  has  al- 
ready been  successfully  passed  by  many  primitive  peo- 
ples— is  the  need  of  fortuitous  attainment  of  a  numeri- 
cal symbol,  which  is  not  the  mere  repeated  symbol  of 
the   things   numbered.      Significantly,   this   symbol   is 
usually  derived  from  the  hand,  suggesting  gestures  of 
tallying,  and  not  from  the  words  of  already  developed 
language.     Consequently,  number  words  relate  them- 
selves for  the  most  part  to  the  hand,  and  written  num- 
ber symbols,  which  are  among  the  earliest  writings  of 
most  peoples,  tend  to  depict  it  as  soon  as  they  have 
passed  beyond  the  stage  mentioned  above  of  merely  re- 
peating the  symbol  of  the  things  numbered.     W.  C. 
Eells,  in  writing  of  the  Number  Systems  of  the  North 
American  Indians  {Am.  Math,  Mo.,  Nov.,  1913;  pp. 
263-72),  finds  clear  linguistic  evidence  for  a  digital 
origin  in  about  40^  of  the  languages  examined.     Of 
the  non-digital  instances,  1  was  sometimes  connected 
with  the  first  personal  pronoun,  2  with  roots  meaning 
separation,  3,  rarely,  meaning  more,  or  plural  as  dis- 
tinguished from  the  dual,  just  as  the  Greek  uses  a 
plural  as  well  as  a  dual  in  nouns  and  verbs,  4  is  often 
the  perfect,  complete  right.    It  is  often  a  sacred  num- 
ber and  the  base  of  a  quarternary  system.     Conant 


126 


CREATIVE   INTELLIGENCE 


{loc.  cit,,  p.  98)  also  gives  a  classification  of  the  mean- 
ings of  simple  number  words  for  more  advanced  lan- 
guages; and  even  in  them  the  hand  is  constantly  in 
evidence,  as  in  5,  the  hand ;  10,  two  hands,  half  a  man, 
when  fingers  and  toes  are  both  considered,  or  a  man, 
when  the  hands  alone  are  considered ;  20,  one  man,  two 
feet.  The  other  meanings  hang  upon  the  ideas  of  ex- 
istence, piece,  group,  beginning,  for  1;  and  repeti- 
tion, division,  and  collection  for  higher  numerals. 

A  peculiar  difficulty  lies  in  the  fact  that  when  once 
numbering  has  become  a  self-conscious  effort,  the  col- 
lection of  things  to  be  numbered  frequently  tends  to 
exceed  the  number  of  names  that  have  become  avail- 
able. Sometimes  the  difficulty  is  met  by  using  a  second 
man  when  the  fingers  and  toes  of  the  first  are  used  up, 
sometimes  by  a  method  of  repetition  with  the  record 
of  the  number  of  the  repetition  itself  added  to  the 
numerical  significance  of  the  whole  process.  Hence 
arise  the  various  systems  of  bases  that  occur  in  de- 
veloped mathematics.  But  the  inertia  to  be  overcome 
in  the  recognition  of  the  base  idea  is  nowhere  more 
obvious  than  in  the  retention  by  the  comparatively  de- 
veloped Babylonian  system  of  a  second  base  of  60  to 
supplement  the  decimal  one  for  smaller  numbers. 
Among  the  American  Indians  (Eells,  loc.  cit,)  the  sys- 
tem of  bases  used  varies  from  the  cumbersome  binary 
scale,  that  exercised  such  a  fascination  over  Leibniz 
(Opera,  III,  p.  346),  through  the  rare  ternary,  and 
the  more  common  quarternary  to  the  "  natural "  qui- 
nary, decimal,  and  vigesimal  systems  derived  from  the 
use  of  the  fingers  and  toes  in  counting. 


INTELLIGENCE  AND  MATHEMATICS      127 

The  achievement  of  a  number  base  and  number  words, 
however,  does  not  always  open  the  way  to  further  math- 
ematical development.    Only  too  often  a  complexity  of 
expression  is  involved  that  almost  immediately  cuts  off 
further  progress.     Thus  the  Youcos  of  the  Amazon 
cannot   get  beyond   the   number   three,   for   the   sim- 
plest   expression    for   the   idea   in   their   language   is 
"  pzettarrarorincoaroac  "  (Conant,  loc.  cit.,  pp.  145, 
83,  53).     Such  names  as  "  99,  tongo  solo  manani  nun 
solo  manani "  (i.e.,  10,  understood,  5  plus  4  times,  and 
6  plus  4)    of  the  Soussous  of  Sierra  Leone;  "399, 
caxtoUi  onnauh  poalli  ipan  caxtolli  onnaui"  (15  plus 
4  times  20  plus  15  plus  4)  of  the  Aztec;  "  29,  wick  a 
chimen    ne    nompah    sam    pah    nep    e    chu    wink    a" 
(Sioux),  make  it  easy  to  understand  the  proverb  of 
the  Yorubas  of  Abeokuta,  "  You  may  be  very  clever, 
but  you  can't  tell  9  .times  9.'* 

Almost  contemporaneously  with  the  beginnings  of 
counting  various  auxiliary  devices  were  introduced  to 
help  out  the  difficult  task.  In  place  of  many  men, 
notched  sticks,  knotted  strings,  pebbles,  or  finger  pan- 
tomime were  used.  In  the  best  form,  these  devices  re- 
sulted in  the  abacus ;  indeed,  it  was  not  until  after  the 
introduction  of  arabic  numerals  and  well  into  the 
Renaissance  period  that  instrumental  arithmetic  gave 
way  to  graphical  in  Europe  (D.  E.  Smith,  Rara  Arith- 
metica,  under  "Counters")-  "In  eastern  Europe," 
say  Smith  and  Mikami  (Japanese  Mathematics,  pp. 
18-19),  "  it  " — the  abacus — "  has  never  been  replaced, 
for  the  tschotu  is  used  everywhere  in  Russia  to-day,  and 
when  one  passes  over  into  Persia  the  same  type  of 


\[\ 


128 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


abacus  is  common  in  all  the  bazaars.  In  China  the 
swan-pan  is  universally  used  for  the  purposes  of  com- 
putation, and  in  Japan  the  soroban  is  as  strongly  en- 
trenched as  it  was  before  the  invasion  of  western 
ideas." 

Given,  then,  the  idea  of  counting,  and  a  mechanical 
device  to  aid  computation,  it  still  remains  necessary  to 
obtain  some  notation  in  which  to  record  results.  At 
the  early  dawn  of  history  the  Egyptians  seem  to  have 
been  already  possessed  of  number  signs  (cf.  Cantor, 
Gesch,  de.  Math,,  p.  44)  and  the  Phoenicians  either 
wrote  out  their  number  words  or  used  a  few  simple 
signs,  vertical,  horizontal,  and  oblique  lines,  a  process 
which  the  Arabians  perpetuated  up  to  the  beginning 
of  the  eleventh  century  (Fink,  p.  15) ;  the  Greeks,  as 
early  as  600  B.  C,  used  the  initial  letters  of  words  for 
numbers.  But  speaking  generally,  historical  begin- 
nings of  European  number  signs  are  too  obscure  to 
furnish  us  good  material. 

Our  Indians  have  few  number  symbols  other  than 
words,  but  when  they  occur  (cf.  Eells,  loc,  cit.)  they 
usually  take  the  form  of  pictorial  presentation  of  some 
counting  device  such  as  strokes,  lines  dotted  to  suggest 
a  knotted  cord,  etc.  Indeed,  the  smaller  Roman  nu- 
merals were  probably  but  a  pictorial  representation  of 
finger  symbols.  However,  a  beautiful  concrete  instance 
is  furnished  us  in  the  Japanese  mathematics  (cf.  Smith 
and  Mikami,  Ch.  III).  The  earliest  instrument  of 
reckoning  in  Japan  seems  to  have  been  the  rod,  Ch'eou, 
adapted  from  the  Chinese  under  the  name  of  Chikusaku 
(bamboo  rods)  about  600  A.  D.     At  first  relatively 


INTELLIGENCE  AND  MATHEMATICiS      129 

large  (measuring  rods.?),  they  became  reduced  to  about 
12  cm.,  but  from  their  tendency  to  roll  were  quickly 
replaced  by  the  sangi  (square  prisms,  about  7  mm. 
thick  and  6  cm.  long)  and  the  number  symbols  were 
evidently    derived     from     the    use     of    these     rods: 

iji.  Ill,  1111,11111,  X  "tt;  Tn;Trn; 

For  the  sake  of  clearness,  tens,  hundreds,  etc.,  were 
expressed  in  the  even  place  by  horizontal  instead  of 
vertical  lines  and  vice  versa;  thus  1267  would  be 
formed  —  JIJ.  TT-  The  rods  were  arranged  on  a  sort  of 
chessboard  called  the  swan-pan.  Much  later  the  lines 
were  transferred  to  paper,  and  a  circle  used  to  denote 
the  vacant  square.  The  use  of  squares,  however,  ren- 
dered it  unnecessary  to  arrange  the  even  places  dif- 
ferently from  the  odd,  so  numbers  like  38057  came  to 
be  written  IllllTTTi      |IIIH|tt|   instead  of  lilll^l     l  =  |Tr| 


as  in  the  earlier  notation. 

Somewhere  in  the  course  of  these  early  mathematical 
activities  the  process  has  changed  from  the  more  or 
less  spontaneous  operating  that  led  primitive  man  to 
the  first  enunciation  of  arithmetical  ideas,  and  has 
become  a  self-conscious  striving  for  the  solution  of 
problems.  This  change  had  already  taken  place  be- 
fore the  historical  origins  of  arithmetic  are  met.  Thus, 
the  treatise  of  Ahmes  (2000  B.  C.)  contains  the  curi- 
ous problem :  7  persons  each  have  7  cats ;  each  cat  eats 
7  mice ;  each  mouse  eats  7  ears  of  barley ;  from  each  ear 
7  measures  of  corn  may  grow;  how  much  grain  has 
been  saved?  Such  problems  are,  however,  half  play, 
as  appears  in  a  Leonardo  of  Pisa  version  some  3000 
years  later:    7  old  women  go  to  Rome;  each  woman 


130 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


has  7  mules;  each  mule,  7  sacks;  each  sack  contains  7 
loaves;  with  each  loaf  are  7  knives;  each  knife  is  in  7 
sheaths.  Similarly  in  Diophantus'  epitaph  (330 
A.  D.)  :  "  Diophantus  passed  1/6  of  his  life  in  child- 
hood, 1/12  in  youth,  and  1/7  more  as  a  bachelor;  5 
years  after  his  marriage,  was  bom  a  son  who  died  4 
years  before  his  father  at  1/2  his  age."  Often  among 
peoples  such  puzzles  were  a  favorite  social  amusement. 
Thus  Braymagupta  (628  A.  D.)  reads,  "  These  prob- 
lems are  proposed  simply  for  pleasure;  the  wise  man 
can  invent  a  thousand  others,  or  he  can  solve  the  prob- 
lems of  others  by  the  rules  given  here.  As  the  sun 
eclipses  the  stars  by  its  brilliancy,  so  the  man  of  knowl- 
edge will  eclipse  the  fame  of  others  in  assemblies  of 
the  people  if  he  proposes  algebraic  problems,  and 
still  more  if  he  solves  them"  (Cajori,  Hist,  of  Math,, 
p.  92). 

The  limitation  of  these  early  methods  is  that  the 
notation  merely  records  and  does  not  aid  computation. 
And  this  is  true  even  of  such  a  highly  developed  sys- 
tem as  was  in  use  among  the  Romans.  If  the  reader 
is  unconvinced,  let  him  attempt  some  such  problem 
as  the  multiplication  of  CCCXVI  by  CCCCLXVIII, 
expressing  it  and  carrying  it  through  in  Roman  nu- 
merals, and  he  will  long  for  the  abacus  to  assist  his 
labors.  It  was  the  positional  arithmetic  of  the  Ara- 
bians, of  which  the>origins  are  obscure,  that  made  pos- 
sible the  development  of  modern  technique.  Of  this  dis- 
covery, or  rediscovery  from  the  Hindoos,  together  with 
the  zero  symbol,  Cajori  (Hist,  of  Math,,  p.  11)  has  said 
"of   all  mathematical   discoveries,  no   one  has   con- 


INTELLIGENCE  AND  MATHEMATICS      131 

tributed  more  to  the  general  progress  of  intelligence 
than  this."  The  notation  no  longer  merely  records  re- 
sults, but  now  assists  in  performing  operations. 

The  origins  of  geometry  are  even  more  obscure  than 
those  of  arithmetic.  Not  only  is  geometry  as  highly 
developed  as  arithmetic  when  it  first  appears  in  occi- 
dental civilization,  but,  in  addition,  the  problems  of 
primitive  peoples  seem  to  have  been  such  that  they 
have  developed  no  geometrical  formulae  striking  enough 
to  be  recorded  by  investigators,  so  far  as  I  have  been 
able  to  discover.  But  just  as  the  commercial  life  of  the 
Phoenicians  early  forced  them  self-consciously  to  de- 
velop arithmetical  calculation,  so  environmental  con- 
ditions seem  to  have  forced  upon  the  Egyptians  a  need 
for  geometrical  considerations. 

It  is  almost  platitudinous  to  quote  Herodotus*  re- 
mark that  the  invention  of  geometry  was  necessary  be- 
cause of  the  floods  of  the  Nile,  which  washed  away  the 
boundaries  and  changed  the  contours  of  the  fields.   And 
as  Proclus  Diadochus  adds  {Prodi  Diadochi,  in  primum 
EucUdis  dementorum  librum  commentarii — quoted  Can- 
tor, I,  p.  125)  :  "  It  is  not  surprising  that  the  discovery 
of  this  as  well  as  other  sciences  has  sprung  from  need, 
because  everything  in  the  process  of  beginning  pro- 
ceeds from  the  incomplete  to  the  complete.    There  takes 
place  a  suitable  transition  from  sensible  perception  to 
thoughtful  consideration  and  rational  knowledge.    Just 
as  with  the  Phoenicians,  for  the  sake  of  business  and 
commerce,  an  exact  knowledge  of  numbers  had  its  be- 
ginning, so  with  the  Egyptians,  for  the  above-mentioned 
reasons,  was  geometry  contrived."  ,   ,  ?- 


1S8 


CREATIVE   INTELLIGENCE 


The  earliest  Egyptian  mathematical  writing  that  we 
know  is  that  of  Ahmes  (2000  B.  C),  but  long  before 
this  the  mural  decorations  of  the  temple  wall  involved 
many  figures,  the  construction  of  which  involved  a  cer- 
tain amount  of  working  knowledge  of  such  operations 
as  may  be  performed  with  the  aid  of  a  ruler  and  com- 
pass. The  fact  that  these  operations  did  not  earlier 
lead  to  geometry,  as  ruler  and  compass  work  seems  to 
have  done  in  Japan  in  the  nineteenth  century  (Smith 
and  Mikami,  index,  "Geometry"),  is  probably  due  to 
the  stage  at  which  the  development  of  Egyptian  in- 
telligence had  arrived,  feebly  advanced  on  the  road  to 
higher  abstract  thinking.  It  is  everywhere  character- 
istic of  Egyptian  genius  that  little  purely  intellectual 
curiosity  is  shown.  Even  astronomical  knowledge  was 
limited  to  those  determinations  which  had  religious  or 
magically  practical  significance,  and  its  arithmetic  and 
geometry  never  escaped  these  bounds  as  with  the  more 
imaginative  Pythagoreans,  where  mystical  interpre- 
tation seems  to  have  been  a  consequence  of  rather 
than  a  stimulus  to  investigation.  An  old  Egyptian 
treatise  reads  (Cantor,  p.  63)  :  "  I  hold  the  wooden  pin 
(Nebi)  and  the  handle  of  the  mallet  (semes),  I  hold 
the  line  in  concurrence  with  the  Goddess  Safech.  My 
glance  follows  the  course  of  the  stars.  When  my  eye 
comes  to  the  constellation  of  the  great  bear  and  the 
time  of  the  number  of  the  hour  determined  by  me  is 
fulfilled,  I  place  the  corner  of  the  temple."  This  incan- 
tation method  could  hardly  advance  intelligence;  but 
the  methods  of  practical  measuring  were  more  effec- 
tive.   Here  the  rather  happy  device  of  using  knotted 


INTELLIGENCE  AND  MATHEMATICS      1S$ 

cords,  carried  about  by  the  Harpedonapts,  or  cord 
stretchers,  was  of  some  moment.  Especially,  the  fact 
that  the  lengths  3,  4,  and  5,  brought  into  triangular 
form,  served  for  an  interesting  connection  between 
arithmetic  and  the  right  triangle,  was  not  a  little  gain, 
later  making  possible  the  discovery  of  the  Pythagorean 
theorem,  although  in  Egypt  the  theoretical  properties 
of  the  triangle  were  never  developed.  The  triangle  ob- 
viously must  have  been  practically  considered  by  the 
decorators  of  the  temple  and  its  builders,  but  the  cord 
stretchers  rendered  clear  its  arithmetical  significance. 
However,  Ahmes'  "  Rules  for  attaining  the  knowledge 
of  all  dark  things  ...  all  secrets  that  are  contained 
in  objects  "  (Cantor,  loc,  cit.,  p.  22)  contains  merely 
a  mixture  of  all  sorts  of  mathematical  information  of 
a  practical  nature, — "  rules  for  making  a  round  fruit 
house,"  "  rules  for  measuring  fields,"  "  rules  for  making 
an  ornament,"  etc.,  but  hardly  a  word  of  arithmetical 
and  geometrical  processes  in  themselves,  unless  it  be 
certain  devices  for  writing  fractions  and  the  like. 

n 
The  Progress  of  Self-conscious  Theory 

A  characteristic  of  Greek  social  life  is  responsible 
both  for  the  next  phase  of  the  development  of  mathe- 
matical thought  and  for  the  misapprehension  of  its 
nature  by  so  many  moderns.  *'  When  Archytas  and 
Menaechmus  employed  mechanical  instruments  for  solv- 
ing certain  geometrical  problems,  *  Plato,'  says  Plu- 
tarch, *  inveighed  against  them  with  great  indignation 
and  persistence  as  destroying  and  perverting  all  the 


H 


184 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


good  that  there  is  in  geometry;  for  the  method  ab- 
sconds from  incorporeal  and  intellectual  or  sensible 
things,  and  besides  employs  again  such  bodies  as  re- 
quire much  vulgar  handicraft:  in  this  way  mechanics 
was  dissimilated  and  expelled  from  geometry,  and  being 
for  a  long  time  looked  down  upon  by  philosophy,  be- 
came one  of  the  arts  of  war.'     In  fact,  manual  labor 
was  looked  down  upon  by  the  Greeks,  and  a  sharp  dis- 
tinction was  drawn  between  the  slaves  who  performed 
bodily  work  and  really  observed  nature,  and  the  leisured 
upper  classes   who  speculated,   and  often  only  knew 
nature  by  hearsay.     This  explains  much  of  the  naive 
dreamy  and  hazy  character  of  ancient  natural  science. 
Only  seldom  did  the  impulse  to  make  experiments  for 
oneself  break  through ;  but  when  it  did,  a  great  progress 
resulted,  as  was  the  case  of  Archytas  and  Archimedes. 
Archimedes,  like  Plato,  held  that  it  was  undesirable  for 
a  philosopher  to  seek  to  apply  the  results  of  science  to 
any  practical  use ;  but,  whatever  might  have  been  his 
view  of  what  ought  to  be  in  the  case,  he  did  actually 
introduce  a  large  number  of  new  inventions  "  ( Jour- 
dain.    The    Nature    of    Mathematics,    pp.     18-19). 
Following  the  Greek  lead,  certain  empirically  minded 
modern  thinkers   construe  geometry  wholly  from   an 
intellectual  point  of  view.     History  is  read  by  them 
as     establishing    indubitably     the    proposition    that 
mathematics  is  a  matter  of  purely  intellectual  opera- 
tions.    But  by  so  construing  it,  they  have,  in  geome- 
try, remembered  solely  the  measuring  and  forgotten 
the  land,  and,  in  arithmetic,  remembered  the  counting 
and  forgotten  the  things  counted, 


INTELLIGENCE  AND  MATHEMATICS      155 

Arithmetic  experienced  little  immediate  gain  from 
its  new  association  with  geometry,  which  was  destined 
to  be  of  momentous  import  in  its  latter  history,  be- 
yond the  discovery  of  irrationals  (which,  however, 
were  for  centuries  not  accepted  as  numbers),  and  the 
establishment  of  the  problem  of  root-taking  by  its  as- 
sociation with  the   square,  and  interest  in  negative 

numbers. 

The  Greeks  had  only  subtracted  smaller  numbers 
from  larger,  but  the  Arabs  began  to  generalize  the 
process  and  had  some  acquaintance  with  negative  re- 
sults, but  it  was  difficult  for  them  to  see  that  these 
results  might  really  have  significance.    N.  Chuquet,  in 
the  fifteenth  century,  seems  to  have  been  the  first  to 
interpret  the  negative  numbers,  but  he  remained  a  long 
time  without  imitators.    Michael  Stifel,  in  the  sixteenth 
century,  still  calls  them  "  Numeri  absurdi"  as  over 
against  the  "  Numeri  veri.'*   However,  their  geometri- 
cal interpretation  was  not  difficult,  and  they  soon  won 
their  way  into  good  standing.     But  the  case  of  the 
imaginary  is  more  striking.    The  need  for  it  was  first 
felt  when  it  was  seen  that  negative  numbers  have  no 
square  roots.     Chuquet  had  dealt  with  second-degree 
equations  involving  the  roots  of  negative  numbers  in 
1484,  but  says  these  numbers  are  "  impossible,"  and 
Descartes  (Geom.,  1637)  first  uses  the  word  "  imagi- 
nary "  to  denote  them.     Their  introduction  is  due  to 
the  Italian  algebrists  of  the  sixteenth  century.     They 
knew  that  the  real  roots  of  certain  algebraic  equations 
of  the  third  degree  are  represented  as  results  of  opera- 
.  tions  effected  upon  "  impossible  "  numbers  of  the  form 


186 


CREATIVE   INTELLIGENCE 


a'-\-hy/ — 1  (where  a  and  h  are  real  numbers)  with- 
out it  being  possible  in  general  to  find  an  algebraic 
expression  for  the  roots  containing  only  real  numbers. 
Cardan  calculated  with  these  "  impossibles,"  using  them 
to  get  real  results  [(5  +  ^/—15)  (6  —  y^— 16)  =  25 
—  ( — 15)  =40],  but  adds  that  it  is  a  "  quantitas 
quae  vere  est  sophistica  "  and  that  the  calculus  itself 
**  adeo  est  subtilis  ut  est  inutilis."  In  1629,  Girard 
announced  the  theorem  that  every  complete  algebraic 
equation  admits  of  as  many  roots,  real  or  imaginary, 
as  there  are  units  in  its  degree,  but  Gauss  first  proved 
this  in  1799,  and  finally,  in  his  Theory  of  Complex 
Quantity,  in  1831. 

Geometry,  however,  among  the  Greeks  passed  into 
a  stage  of  abstraction  in  which  lines,  planes,  etc.,  in 
the  sense  in  which  they  are  understood  in  our  elemen- 
tary texts,  took  the  place  of  actually  measured  sur- 
faces, and  also  took  on  the  deductive  form  of  presenta- 
tion that  has  served  as  a  model  for  all  mathematical 
presentation  since  Euclid.     Mensuration  smacked  too 
much  of  the  exchange,  and  before  the  time  of  Archi- 
medes is  practically  wholly  absent.  Even  such  theorems 
as  "  that  the  area  of  a  triangle  equals  half  the  product 
of  its  base  and  its  altitude  "  is  foreign  to  Euclid  (cf. 
Cajori,  p.   39).     Lines  were  merely  directions,  and 
points  limitations  from  which  one  worked.     But  there 
was  still  dependence  upon  the  things  that  one  meas- 
ures.    Euclid's  elements,  "  when  examined  in  the  light 
of   strict  mathematical  logic,    ...    has  been   pro- 
nounced by  C.  S.  Peirce  to  be  *  Riddled  with  falla- 
cies ' "  (Cajori,  p.  37).     Not  logic,  but  observation 


INTELLIGENCE  AND  MATHEMATICS      137 

of    the    figures    drawn,    that    is,    concrete    symboliza- 
tion   of   the   processes   indicated,   saves   Euclid   from 

error. 

Roman  practical  geometry  seems  to  have  come  from 
the  Etruscans,  but  the  Roman  here  is  as  little  inventive 
as   in   his   arithmetical   ventures,   although  the  latter 
were  stimulated  somewhat  by  problems  of  inheritance 
and  interest  reckoning.    Indeed,  before  the  entrance  of 
Arabic  learning  into  Europe  and  the  translation  of 
Euclid  from  the  Arabic  in  1120,  there  is  little  or  no 
advance  over  the  Egyptian  geometry  of  600  B.  C.  Even 
the  universities  neglected  mathematics.     At  Paris  "  in 
1336  a  rule  was  introduced  that  no  student  should 
take  a  degree  without  attending  lectures  on  mathe- 
matics, and  from  a  commentary  on  the  first  six  books 
of  Euclid,  dated  1536,  it  appears  that  candidates  for 
the  degree  of  A.  M.  had  to  give  an  oath  that  they  had 
attended  lectures  on  these  books.    Examinations,  when 
held  at  all,  probably  did  not  extend  beyond  the  first 
book,  as  is  shown  by  the  nickname  '  magister  mathe- 
seos '  applied  to  the  Theorem  of  Pythagoras,  the  last 
in  the  first  book.   ...     At  Oxford,  in  the  middle  of 
the  fifteenth  century,  the  first  two  books  of  Euclid  were 
read  "  (Cajori,  loc.  cit,,  p.  136).    But  later  geometry 
dropped  out  and  not  till  1619  was  a  professorship  of 
geometry  instituted  at  Oxford.     Roger  Bacon  speaks 
of  Euclid's  fifth  proposition  as  "  elefuga,"  and  it  also 
gets  the  name  of  "  pons  asinorum  "  from  its  point  of 
transition  to  higher  learning.    As  late  as  the  fourteenth 
century  an   English  manuscript  begins  "  Nowe   sues 
here  a  Tretis  of  Geometri  whereby  you  may  knowe  the 


188 


CREATIVE   INTELLIGENCE 


hegte,   dcpncs,   and   the   brede   of  most  what  erthelj 
thynges." 

The  first  significant  turning-point  lies  in  the  geome- 
try of  Descartes.  Viete  (1540-1603)  and  others  had 
already  applied  algebra  to  geometry,  but  Descartes, 
by  means  of  coordinate  representation,  established  the 
idea  of  motion  in  geometry  in  a  fashion  destined  to 
react  most  fruitfully  on  algebra,  and  through  this,  on 
arithmetic,  as  well  as  enormously  to  increase  the  scope 
of  geometry.  These  discoveries  are  not,  however,  of 
first  moment  for  our  problem,  for  the  ideas  of  mathe- 
matical entities  remain  throughout  them  the  general- 
ized processes  that  had  appeared  in  Greece.  It  is  worth 
noting,  however,  that  in  England  mechanics  has  always 
been  taught  as  an  experimental  science,  while  on  the 
Continent  it  has  been  expanded  deductively,  as  a  de- 
velopment of  a  priori  principles. 


in 


CONTEMPOEAEY     ThOUGHT     IN     AeITHMETIC     AND 

Geometry 

To  develop  the  complete  history  of  arithmetic  and 
geometry  would  be  a  task  quite  beyond  the  limits  of  this 
paper,  and  of  the  writer's  knowledge.  In  arithmetic 
we  were  able  to  observe  a  stage  in  which  spontaneous 
behavior  led  to  the  invention  of  number  names  and 
methods  of  counting.  Then,  by  certain  speculative  and 
*'  play  "  impulses,  there  arose  elementary  arithmetical 
problems  which  began  to  be  of  interest  in  themselves. 
Geometry  here  also  comes  into  consideration,  and,  in 
connection  with  positional  number  symbols,  begin  those 


INTELLIGENCE  AND  MATHEMATICS      189 

interactions    between    arithmetic    and    geometry    that 
result  in  the  forms  of  our  contemporary  mathematics. 
The  complex  quantities  represented  by  number  sym- 
bols are  no  longer  merely   the  necessary   results   of 
analyzing  commercial  relations  or  practical  measure- 
ments, and  geometry  is  no  longer  directly  based  upon 
the  intuitively  given  line,  point,  and  plane.    If  number 
relations  are  to  be  expressed  in  terms  of  empirical  spatial 
positions,  it  is  necessary  to  construct  many  imaginary 
surfaces,  as  is  done  by  Riemann  in  his  theory  of  func- 
tions, a  construction  representing  the  type  of  imagi- 
nation which   Poincare  has   called  the  intuitional  in 
contradistinction   to   the   logical    {Value   of   Science, 
Ch.    I).     And   geometry   has    not   only   been   led   to 
the  construction  of  many  non-Euclidian  spaces,  but 
has  even,  with  Peano  and  his  school,  been  freed  from 
the   bonds    of    any   necessary    spatial    interpretation 

whatsoever. 

To  trace  in  concrete  detail  the  attainment  of  mod- 
ern refinements  of  number  theory  would  likewise  exhibit 
nothing  new  in  the  building  up  of  mathematical  intelli- 
gence.    We  should  find,  here,  a  process  carried  out 
without  thought  of  the  consequences,  there,  an  analogy 
suggesting  an  operation  that  might  lead  us  beyond  a 
difficulty  that  had  blocked  progress ;  here,  a  play  in- 
terest leading  to  a  combination  of  symbols  out  of  which  a 
new  idea  has  sprung ;  there,  a  painstaking  and  methodi- 
cal effort  to  overcome  a  difficulty  recognized  from  the 
start.     It  is  rather  for  us  now  to  ask  what  it  is  that 
has  been  attained  by  these  means,  to  inquire  finally 
what  are  those  things  caUed  "  number  "  and  "  line  " 


140 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


in  the  broad  sense  in  which  the  terms  are  now  used. 

In  so  far  as  the  cardinal  number  at  least  is  con- 
cerned, the  answer  generally  accepted  by  Dedekind, 
Peano,  Russell,  and  such  writers  is  this:  the  number 
is  a  "  class  of  similar  classes  "  (Whitehead  and  Russell, 
Prin.  Math.,  Vol.  II,  p.  4).  To  the  interpretation  of 
this  answer,  Mr.  Russell,  the  most  self-consciously 
philosophical  of  these  mathematicians,  has  devoted  his 
full  dialectic  skill.  The  definition  has  at  least  the 
merit  of  being  free  from  certain  arbitrary  psychologiz- 
ing that  has  vitiated  many  earlier  attempts  at  the  prob- 
lem. Mr.  Russell  claims  for  it  "  (1)  that  the  formal 
properties  which  we  expect  cardinal  numbers  to  have 
result  from  it;  (2)  that  unless  we  adopt  this  definition 
or  some  more  complicated  and  practically  equivalent 
definition,  it  is  necessary  to  regard  the  cardinal  num- 
ber of  a  class  as  indefinable"  {loc.  cit.,  p.  4).  That 
the  definition's  terms,  however,  are  not  without  obscur- 
ity appears  in  Mr.  Russell's  struggles  with  the  zigzag 
theory,  the  no-class  theory,  etc.,  and  finally  in  his  tak- 
ing refuge  in  the  theory  of  "  logical  types  "  (loc.  cit,. 
Vol.  Ill,  Part  V.  E.),  whereby  the  contradiction  that 
subverted  Frege  and  drove  Mr.  Russell  from  the  stand- 
point of  the  Principles  of  Mathematics  is  finally  over- 
come. 

The  second  of  Mr.  RusselPs  claims  for  his  definition 
adds  nothing  to  the  first,  for  it  merely  asserts  that 
unless  we  adopt  some  definition  of  the  cardinal  number 
from  which  its  formal  properties  result,  number  is 
undefined.  Any  such  definition  would  be,  ipso  facto,  a 
practical  equivalent  of  the  first.     We  need  only  con- 


INTELLIGENCE  AND  MATHEMATICS      141 

sider  whether  or  no  the  formal  properties  of  numbers 
clearly  follow  from  this  definition. 

Mr.    Russell's   own   experience   makes    us   hesitate. 
When  he  first  adopted  this  definition  from  Frege,  he 
was  led  to  make  the  inference  that  the  class  of  all  possi- 
ble classes  might  furnish  a  type  for  a  greatest  cardinal 
number.     But  this  led  to  nothing  but  paradox  and 
contradiction.    The  obvious  conclusion  was  that  some- 
thing was  wrong  with  the  concept  of  class,  and  the 
obvious  way  out  was  to  deny  the  possibility  of  any  such 
all-inclusive    class.      Just   why    there    should   be    such 
limitation,  except  that  it  enables  one  to  escape  the 
contradiction,  is  not  clear  from  Mr.  Russell's  analysis 
(cf.  Brown,  "The  Logic  of  Mr.  Russell,"  Journ.  of 
PhU.,  Psych,,  and  Sci.  Meth.,  Vol.  VIII,  No.  4,  pp. 
85-89).     Furthermore,  to  pass  to  the  theory  of  types 
on  this  ground  is  to  give  up  the  value  of  the  first  claim 
for   the   definition    (quoted   above),   since  the  formal 
properties  of  numbers  now  merely  follow  from  the  defi- 
nition because  the  terms  of  the  definition  are  reinter- 
preted from  the  properties  of  number,  so  that  these 
properties  will  follow  from  it.     The  definition  has  be- 
come circular. 

The  real  difficulty  lies  in  the  concept  of  the  class. 
Dogmatic  realism  is  prone  to  find  here  an  entity  for 
which,  as  it  is  obviously  not  a  physical  thing,  a  home 
must  be  provided  in  some  region  of  "  being."  Hence 
arises  the  realm  of  subsistence,  as  for  Plato  the  world 
of  facts  duplicated  itself  in  a  world  of  ideas.  But 
the  subsistent  realm  of  the  mathematician  is  even  more 
astounding  than  the  ideal  realm  of  Plato,  for  the  latter 


142 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


world  is  a  prototype  of  the  world  of  things,  while  the 
world  of  the  mathematician  is  peopled  by  all  sorts  of 
entities  that  never  were  on  land  or  sea.  The  trans- 
finite  numbers  of  Cantor  have,  without  doubt,  a  definite 
mathematical  meaning,  but  they  have  no  known  repre- 
sentatives in  the  world  of  things,  nor  in  the  imagination 
of  man,  and  in  spite  of  the  efforts  of  philosophers  it 
may  even  be  doubted  whether  an  entity  correlative  to 
the  mathematical  infinite  has  ever  been  or  can  ever 
be  specified. 

Mr.  Russell  now  teaches  that  "classes  are  merely 
symbolic"  (Sci.  Meth.  in  PhU.,  p.  208),  but  this  ex- 
pression still  needs  elucidation.  It  does,  to  be  sure, 
avoid  the  earlier  difficulty  of  admitting  "  new  and  mys- 
terious metaphysical  entities"  (loc.  ct7.,  p.  204),  but 
the  "  feeling  of  oddity  "  that  accompanies  it  seems  not 
without  significance.  What  can  be  meant  by  a  merely 
symbolic  class  of  similar  classes  themselves  merely  sym- 
bolical? I  do  not  know,  unless  it  is  that  we  are  to 
throw  overboard  the  effort  aimed  at  arbitrary  and 
creative  definition  and  proceed  in  simple  inductive  and 
interpretative  fashion.  With  classes  as  entities  aban- 
doned, we  are  left,  until  we  have  passed  to  a  new  point 
of  view  as  to  arithmetical  entities,  in  the  position  of 
the  intelligent  ignoramus  who  defined  a  stock  market 
operation  as  buying  what  you  can't  get  with  money 
you  never  had,  and  selling  what  you  never  owned  for 
more  than  it  was  ever  worth. 

The  situation  seems  to  be  that  we  are  now  face  to 
face  with  new  generalizations.  Just  as  number  sym- 
bols arose  to  denote  operations  gone  through  in  count- 


INTELLIGENCE  AND  MATHEMATICS      143 

ing  things  when  attention  is  diverted  from  the  particu- 
lar characteristics  of  the  things  counted,  and  remained 
a  symbol  for  those  operations  with  things,  so  now  we 
are  becoming  self-conscious  of  the  character  of  the 
operations  we  have  been  performing  and  are  develop- 
ing new  symbols  to  express  possible  operations  with 
operations.    The  infinity  of  the  number  series  expresses 
the  fact  that  it  is  possible  to  continue  the  enumerating 
process  indefinitely,  and  when  we  are  asked  by  certain 
mathematicians  to  practise  ourselves  in  such  thoughts 
as  that  for  infinite  series  a  proper  part  can  be  the  equal 
of  the  whole,  where  equality  is  defined  through  the 
establishment  of  one-one  correspondence,  we  are  really 
merely  informed  that  among  the  group  of  symbols  used 
to  denote  the  concrete  steps  of  an  ever  open  counting 
process  are  groups  of  symbols  that  can  be  used  to 
indicate  operations  that  are  of  the  same  type  as  the 
given  one  in  so  far  as  the  characteristic  of  being  an 
open  series  is  concerned.     If  there  were  anywhere  an 
infinity  of  things  to  count,  an  unintelligible  supposition, 
it  would  by  no  means  be  true  that  any  selection  of 
things  from  that  series  would  be  the  equivalent  of  all 
things  in  the  series,  except  in  so  far  as  equivalence 
meant  that  they  could  be  arranged  in  the  same  type 
of  series  as  that  from  which  they  were  drawn. 

Similarly  the  mathematical  conception  of  the  con- 
tinuum is  nothing  but  a  formulation  of  the  manner  in 
which  the  cuts  of  a  line  or  the  numbers  of  a  continuous 
series  must  be  chosen  so  that  there  shall  remain  no 
possible  cut  or  number  of  which  the  choice  is  not  in- 
dicated.    Correspondence  is  reached  between  elements 


144 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


of  such  series  when  the  corresponding  elements  can  be 
reached  bj  an  identical  process.  It  seems  to  me,  how- 
ever, a  mistake  to  identify  the  number  continuum  with 
the  linear  continuum,  for  the  latter  must  include  the 
irrational  numbers,  whereas  the  irrational  number  can 
never  represent  a  spatial  position  in  a  series.  For 
example,  the  V^  is  by  nature  a  decimal  involving  an 
infinite,  i.e.,  an  ever  increasing,  number  of  digits  to 
express  it  and,  by  virtue  of  the  infinity  of  these  digits, 
they  can  never  be  looked  upon  as  all  given.  It  is  then 
truly  a  number,  for  it  expresses  a  genuine  numerical 
operation,  but  it  is  not  a  position,  for  it  cannot  be  a 
determinate  magnitude  but  merely  a  quantity  ap- 
proaching a  determinate  magnitude  as  closely  as  one 
may  please.  That  is,  without  its  complete  expression, 
which  would  be  analogous  to  the  self -contradictory  task 
of  finding  a  greatest  cardinal  number,  there  can  be  no 
cut  in  the  line  which  is  symbolized  by  it.  But  the  opera- 
tions of  translating  algebraic  expressions  into  geomet- 
rical ones  and  vice  versa  (operations  which  are  so  im- 
portant in  physical  investigations)  are  facilitated  by 
the  notion  of  a  one  to  one  correspondence  between  num- 
ber and  space. 

When  we  pass  to  the  transfinite  numbers,  we  have 
nothing  in  the  Alephs  but  the  symbols  of  certain  group- 
ings of  operations  expressible  in  ordinary  number 
series.  And  the  many  forms  of  numbers  are  all  simply 
the  result  of  recognizing  value  in  naming  definite 
groups  of  operations  of  a  lower  level,  which  may  itself 
be  a  complication  of  processes  indicated  by  the  simple 
numerical  signs.     To  create  such  symbols  is  by  no 


INTELLIGENCE  AND  MATHEMATICS      145 

means  illegitimate  and  no  paradox  results  in  any  forms 
as  long  as  we  remember  that  our  numbers  are  not 
things  but  are  signs  of  operations  that  may  be  per- 
formed directly  upon  things  or  upon  other  operations. 
For  example,  let  us  consider  such  a  symbol  as  V — ^- 
— 5  signifies  the  totality  of  a  counting  process  carried 
on  in   an   opposite   sense   from   that  denoted  by   +5. 
To  take  the  square  root  is  to  symbolize  a  number,  the 
totality  of  an  operation,  such  that  when  the  operation 
denoted  by  multiplying  it  by  itself  is  performed  the 
result  is  5.    Consequently  the  V — 5  is  merely  the  symbol 
of  these  processes  combined  in  such  a  way  that  the 
whole  operation  is  to  be  considered  as  opposite  in  some 
sense  to  that  denoted  by  ^5l    Hence,  an  easy  method 
for  the  representation  of  such  imaginaries  is  based  on 
the  principle  of  analytic  geometry  and  a  system  of  co- 
ordinates. 

The  nature  of  this  last  generalization  of  mathe- 
matics is  well  shown  by  Mr.  Whitehead  in  his  monu- 
mental Universal  Algebra.  The  work  begins  with  the 
definition  of  a  calculus  as  "  The  art  of  manipulating 
substitutive  signs  according  to  fixed  rules,  and  the  de- 
duction therefrom  of  true  propositions"  {loc.  cit„ 
p.  4).  The  deduction  itself  is  really  a  manipulation 
according  to  rules,  and  the  truth  consists  essentially 
in  the  results  being  actually  derived  from  the  premises 
according  to  rule.  Following  Stout,  substitutive  signs 
are  characterized  thus :  "  a  word  is  an  instrument  for 
thinking  about  the  meaning  which  it  expresses ;  a  sub- 
stitutive sign  is  a  means  of  not  thinking  about  the 
meaning  which  it  symbolizes."     Mathematical  symbols 


146 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


have,  then,  become  substitutive  signs.    But  this  is  only 
possible  because  they  were  at  an  early  stage  of  their 
history  expressive  signs,  and  the  laws  which  connected 
them  were  derived  from  the  relations  of  the  things 
for  which  they  stood.     First  it  became  possible   to 
forget  the  things  in  their  concreteness,  and  now  they 
have  become  mere  terms  for  the  relations  that  had  been 
generalized  between   them.      Consequently,  the   things 
forgotten  and  the  terms  treated  as  mere  elements  of  a 
relational  complex,  it  is  possible  to  state  such  relational 
complexes  with  the  utmost  freedom.    But  this  does  not 
mean  that  mathematics  can  be  created  in  a  purely 
arbitrary  fashion.    The  mark  of  its  origin  is  upon  it  in 
the  need  of  exhibiting  some  existing  situation  through 
which  the  non-contradictory  character  of  its  postulates 
can  be  verified.    The  real  advantage  of  the  generaliza- 
tion is  that  of  all  generalizations  in  science,  namely, 
that  by  looking  away  from  practical  applications  (as 
appears  in  a  historical  survey)  results  are  frequently 
obtained  that  would  never  have  been  attained  if  our 
labor  had  been   consciously  limited  merely   to   those 
problems   where  the  advantages  of  a  solution  were  ob- 
vious.    So  the  most  fantastic  forms  of  mathematics, 
which  themselves  seem  to  bear  no  relation  to  actual 
phenomena,  just  because  the  relations  involved  in  them 
are  the  relations  that  have  been  derived  from  dealing 
with  an  actual  world,  may  contribute  to  the  solutions  of 
problems  in  other  forms  of  calculus,  or  even  to  the  crea- 
tion of  new  forms  of  mathematics.  And  these  new  forms 
may  stand  in  a  more  intimate  connection  with  aspects 
of  the  real  world  than  the  original  mathematics. 


INTELLIGENCE  AND  MATHEMATICS      147 

In  1836-39  there  appeared  in  the  Gelehrte  Schriften 
der  Umversitdt  Kasan,  Lobatchewsky's  epoch-making 
"  New  Elements  of  Geometry,  with  a  Complete  Theory 
of  Parallels."    After  proving  that  "  if  a  straight  line 
falling  on  two  other  straight  lines  make  the  alternate 
angles  equal  to  one  another,  the  two  straight  lines 
shall  be  parallel  to  one  another,"  Euclid,  finding  him- 
self unable  to  prove  that  in  every  other  case  they 
were  not  parallel,  assumed  it  in  an  axiom.     But  it 
had    never    seemed    obvious.      Lobatchewsky's    system 
amounted  merely  to  developing  a  geometry  on  the  basis 
of  the  contradictory  axiom,  that  through  a  point  out- 
side a  line  an  indefinite  number  of  lines  can  be  drawn, 
no  one  of  which  shall  cut  a  given  line  in  that  plane. 
In  1832-33,  similar  results  were  attained  by  Johann 
Bolyai    in    an    appendix    to    his    father's    "  Tenia- 
men  juventutem   studiosam   in   element  a   matheseosos 
puree   .    .    .   introducendi"  entitled  "The  Science  of 
Absolute  Space."    In  1824  the  dissertation  of  Riemann, 
under  Gauss,  introduced  the  idea  of  an  w-ply  extended 
magnitude,  or  a  study  of  n-dimensional  manifolds  and 
a  new  road  was  opened  for  mathematical  intelligence. 
At  first  this  new  knowledge  suggested  all  sorts  of 
metaphysical  hypotheses.     If   it  is   possible  to  build 
geometries  of  w-dimensions  or  geometries  in  which  the 
axiom  of  parallels  is  no  longer  true,  why  may  it  not 
be  that  the  space  in  which  we  make  our  measurements 
and  on  which  we  base  our  mechanics  is  some  one  of 
these  "  non-Euclidian  "  spaces  ?    And  indeed  many  ex- 
periments were  conducted  in  search  of  some  clue  that 
this  might  be  the  case.    Such  experiments  in  relation  to 


148 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


"  curved  spaces  *'  seemed  particularly  alluring,  but  all 
have  turned  out  to  be  fruitless  in  results.  Failure  leads 
to  investigation  of  the  causes  of  failure.  If  our  space 
had  been  some  one  of  these  spaces  how  would  it  have 
been  possible  for  us  to  know  this  fact?  The  traditional 
definition  of  a  straight  line  has  never  been  satisfactory 
from  a  physical  point  of  view.  To  define  it  as  the  short- 
est distance  between  two  points  is  to  introduce  the  idea 
of  distance,  and  the  idea  of  distance  itself  has  no 
meaning  without  the  idea  of  straight  line,  and  so  the 
definition  moves  in  a  vicious  circle.  On  the  metaphysi- 
cal side,  Lotze  {Metaphysik,  p.  249)  and  others  (Merz, 
History  of  European  Thought  in  the  Nineteenth  Cen- 
tury, Vol.  II,  p.  716)  criticized  these  attempts,  on  the 
whole  justly,  but  the  best  interpretation  of  the  situa- 
tion has  been  given  by  Poincard. 

Two  lines  of  thought  now  lead  to  a  recasting  of  our 
conceptions  of  the  fundamental  notions  of  geometry. 
On  the  one  hand,  that  very  investigation  of  postulates 
that  had  led  to  the  discovery  of  the  apparently  strange 
non-Euclidian  geometries  was  easily  continued  to  an 
investigation  of  the  simplest  basis  on  which  a  geometry 
could  be  founded.  Then  by  reaction  it  was  continued 
with  similar  methods  in  dealing  with  algebra,  and  other 
forms  of  analysis,  with  the  result  that  conceptions  of 
mathematical  entities  have  gradually  emerged  that  rep- 
resent a  new  stage  of  abstraction  in  the  evolution  of 
mathematics,  soon  to  be  discussed  as  the  dominating 
conceptions  in  contemporary  thought.  On  the  other 
hand,  there  also  developed  the  problem  of  the  relations 
of  these  geometrical  worlds  to  one  another,  which  has 


INTELLIGENCE  AND  MATHEMATICS      149 

been  primarily  significant  in  helping  to  clear  up  the 
relations  of  mathematics  in  its  "  pure  "  and  "  applied  " 

forms. 

Gkometry  passed  through  a  stage  of  abstraction  like 
that  examined  in  connection  with  arithmetic.  Begin- 
ning with  the  discovery  of  non-Euclidian  geometry,  it 
has  been  becoming  more  and  more  evident  that  a  line 
need  not  be  a  name  for  an  aspect  of  a  physical  object 
such  as  the  ridge-pole  line  of  a  house  and  the  like,  nor 
even  for  the  more  abstract  mechanical  characteristic 
of  direction  of  movement; — although  the  persistency 
with  which  intuitionally  minded  geometers  have  sought 
to  adapt  such  illustrations  to  their  needs  has  somewhat 
obscured  this  fact.  However,  even  a  cursory  examina- 
tion of  a  modern  treatise  on  geometry  makes  clear 
what  has  taken  place.  For  example.  Professor  Hilbert 
begins  his  Grundlagen  der  Geometrie,  not  with  defini- 
tion of  points,  lines,  and  planes,  but  with  the  assump- 
tion of  three  different  systems  of  things  (Dinge)  of 
which  the  first,  called  points,  are  denoted  A,  B,  C,  etc., 
second,  called  straight  lines  (Gerade),  are  denoted 
a,  b,  c,  etc.,  and  the  third,  called  planes,  are  denoted 
by  a,  /?,  yy  etc.  The  relations  between  these  things 
then  receive  "  genaue  und  vollstandige  Beschreibung " 
through  the  axioms  of  the  geometry.  And  the  fact 
that  these  "  things  "  are  called  points,  lines,  and  planes 
is  not  to  give  to  them  any  of  the  connotations  ordi- 
narily associated  with  these  words  further  than  are 
determined  by  the  axiom  groups  that  follow.  Indeed, 
other  geometers  are  even  more  explicit  on  this  point. 
Thus  for  Peano  (/  Principii  di  Geometria,  1889)  the 


150  CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 

line  is  a  mere  class  of  entities,  the  relations  amongst 
which  are  no  longer  concrete  relations  but  types  of  re- 
lations. The  plane  is  a  class  of  classes  of  entities,  etc. 
And  an  almost  unlimited  number  of  examples,  about 
which  the  theorems  of  the  geometry  will  express  truths, 
can  be  exhibited,  not  one  of  which  has  any  close  re- 
semblance to  spatial  facts  in  the  ordinary  sense. 

Philosophers,  it  seems  to  me,  have  been  slow  to  rec- 
ognize the  significance  of  the  step  involved  in  this  last 
phase  of  mathematical   thought.     We  have  been   so 
schooled  in  an  arbitrary  distinction  between  relations 
and  concepts,  that  while  long  familiar  with  general 
ideas  of  concepts,  we  are  not  familiar  with  general- 
ized  ideas    of    relations.     Yet   this    is    exactly    what 
mathematics  is  everywhere  presenting.     A  transition 
has    been    made    from    relations    to    types    of    rela- 
tions,    so     that     instead     of     speaking     in     terms 
of     quantitative,     spatial     and     temporal     relations, 
mathematicians    can    now   talk    in    terms    of    symmet- 
rical,    asymmetrical,     transitive,     intransitive     rela- 
tional types   and  the  like.     These  present,  however, 
nothing  but  the  empirical  character  that  is  common  to 
such  relations  as  that  of  father  and  son ;  debtor  and 
creditor;  master  and  servant;  a  is  to  the  left  of  b, 
b  of  c ;  c  of  d ;  a  is  older  than  b,  b  than  c,  c  than  d, 
etc.     Hence   this   is   not   abandonment  of  experience 
but  a  generalization  of  it,  which  results  in  a  calculus 
potentially  applicable  not  only  to  it  but  also  to  other 
subject-matter  of  thought.     Indeed,  if  it  were  not  for 
the  possibility  of  this  generalization,  the  almost  un- 
limited applicability  of  diagrams,   so  useful  in  the 


INTELLIGENCE  AND  MATHEMATICS      151 

classroom,  to  illustrate  everything  from  the  nature 
of  reality  to  the  categorical  imperative,  as  well  as  to 
the  more  technical  usages  of  the  psychological  and 
social  sciences,  would  not  be  understandable. 

It  would  be  a  paradox,  however,  if  starting  out  from 
processes  of  counting  and  measuring,  generalizations 
had  been  attained  that  no  longer  had  significance  for 
counting  or  measuring,  and  the  non-Euclidian  hyper- 
dimensional  geometries  seem  at  first  to  present  this 
paradox.  But,  as  the  outcome  of  our  second  line  of 
thought  proves,  this  is  not  the  case.  The  investigation 
of  the  relations  of  different  geometrical  systems  to 
each  other  has  shown  (cf.  Brown,  "The  Work  of  H. 
Poincar^,"  Journ,  of  PhU.,  Psy.y  and  Sci,  Meth,,  Vol. 
XI,  No.  9,  p.  229)  that  these  different  systems  have  a 
correspondence  with  one  another  so  that  for  any 
theorem  stated  in  one  of  them  there  is  a  correspond- 
ing theorem  that  can  be  stated  in  another.  In  other 
words,  given  any  factual  situation  that  can  be  stated 
in  Euclidian  geometry,  the  aspect  treated  as  a  straight 
line  in  the  Euclidian  exposition  will  be  treated  as  a 
curve  in  the  non-Euclidian,  and  a  situation  treated  as 
three-dimensional  by  Euclid's  methods  can  be  treated 
as  of  any  number  of  dimensions  when  the  proper  funda- 
mental element  is  chosen,  and  vice  versa,  although  of 
course  the  element  will  not  be  the  line  or  plane  in  our 
empirical  usage  of  the  term.  This  is  what  Poincar^ 
means  by  saying  that  our  geometry  is  a  free  choice, 
but  not  arbitrary  (The  Value  of  Science,  Pt.  Ill, 
Ch.  X,  Sec.  3),  for  there  are  many  limitations  imposed 
by  fact  upon  the  choice,  and  usually  there  is  some 


152  CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 

clear  indication  of  convenience  as  to  the  system  chosen, 

based  on  the  fundamental  ideal  of  simplicity. 

It  is  evident,  then,  that  geometry  and  arithmetic 
have  been  drawing  closer  together,  and  that  to-day  the 
distinction  between  them  is  somewhat  hard  to  mam- 
tain.     The  older  arithmetic  had  limited  itself  largely 
to  the  study  of  the  relations  involved  in  serial  orders 
as  suggested  by  counting,  whereas  geometry  had  con- 
cerned  itself  primarily  with  the  relations  of  groups  of 
such  series  to  each  other  when  the  series,  or  groups 
of  series,  are  represented  as  lines  or  planes.    But  partly 
by  interaction  in  analytic  geometry,  and  partly  m  the 
generalization  of  their  own  methods,  both  have  come  to 
recognize  the  fundamental  character  of  the  relations 
involved  in  their  thought,  and  arithmetic,  through  the 
complex  number  and  the  algebraic  unknown  quantities, 
has  come  to  consider  more  complex  serial  types,  while 
geometry  has   approached  the  analysis  of  its  series 
through  interaction  with  number   theory.    For  both, 
the  content  of  their  entities   and  the  relations  involved 
have  been  brought  to  a  minimum.   And  this  is  true  even 
of  such  apparently  essentially  intuitional  fields  as  pro- 
jective geometry,  where  entities  can  be  substituted  for 
directional  lines  and  the  axioms  be  turned  into  rela- 
tional postulates  governing  their  configurations. 

Nevertheless,  geometry  like  arithmetic,  has  remained 
true  to  the  need  that  gave  it  initial  impulse.  As  in 
the  beginning  it  was  only  a  method  of  dealing  with  a 
concrete  situation,  so  in  the  end  it  is  nothing  but  such 
a  method,  although,  as  in  the  case  of  arithmetic,  from 
ever  closer  contact  with  the  situation  in  question,  it 


INTELLIGENCE  AND  MATHEMATICS      153 

has  been  led,  by  refinements  that  thoughtful  and  con- 
tinual contact  bring,  to  dissect  that  situation  and  give 
heed  to  aspects  of  it  which  were  undreamed  of  at  the 
initial  moment.     In  a  sense,  then,  there  are  no  such 
things  as  mathematical  entities,  as  scholastic  realism 
would  conceive  them.     And  yet,  mathematics  is  not 
dealing  with  unrealities,  for  it  is  everywhere  concerned 
with  real  rational  types  and  systems  where  such  types 
may  be  exemplified.     Or  we  can  say  in  a  purely  prac- 
tical way  that  mathematical  entities  are  constituted 
by  their   relations,  but   this  phrase   cannot  here  be 
interpreted  in  the  Hegelian  ontological  sense  in  which 
it  has  played  so  great  and  so  pernicious  a  part  in  con- 
temporary philosophy.     Such  metaphysical  interpre- 
tation and  its  consequences  are  the  basis  of  paradoxi- 
cal absolutisms,  such  as  that  arrived  at  by  Professor 
Royce   (World  and  the  Individual,  Vol.  II,  Supple- 
mentary Essay).     The  peculiar  character  of  abstract 
or  pure  mathematics  seems  to  be  that  its  own  opera- 
tions on  a  lower  level  constitute  material  which  serves 
for  the  subject-matter  with  which  its  later  investiga- 
tions deal.     But  mathematics  is,  after  all,  not  funda- 
mentally   different    from    the    other    sciences.      The 
concepts    of    all    sciences    alike    constitute    a    special 
language  peculiarly  adapted  for  dealing  with  certain 
experience    adjustments,    and    the    differences    in    the 
development  of  the  different  sciences  merely  express 
different  degrees  of  success  with  which  such  languages 
have  been  formulated  with  respect  to  making  it  possi- 
ble to  predict  concerning  not  yet  realized  situations. 
Some  sciences  are  still  seeking  their  terms  and  funda- 


154  CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 

mental  concepts,  others  are  formulating  their  first 
"  grammar,"  and  mathematics,  still  inadequate,  yearly 
gains  both  in  vocabulary  and  flexibility. 

But  if  we  are  to  conceive  mathematical  entities  as 
mere  terminal  points  in  a  relational  system,  it  is  neces- 
sary that  we  should  become  clear  as  to  just  what  is 
meant  by  relation,  and  what  is  the  connection  between 
relations  and  quantities.     Modern  thought  has  shown 
a  strong  tendency  to  insist,  somewhat  arbitrarily,  on 
the  "  internal  "  or  "  external "  character  of  relations. 
The   former   emphasis  has   been   primarily   associated 
with  idealistic  ontology,  and  has  often  brought  with  it 
complex  dialectic  questions  as  to  the  identity  of  an 
individual  thing  in  passing  from  one  relational  situa- 
tion to  another.    The  latter  insistence  has  meant  pri- 
marily that  things  do  not  change  with  changing  rela- 
tions to  other  things.     It  has,  however,  often  implied 
the  independent  existence,  in  some  curiously  metaphysi- 
cal state,  of  relations  that  are  not  relating  anything, 
and  is  hardly  less  paradoxical  than  the  older  view. 
In  the  field  of  physical  phenomena,  it  seems  to  triumph, 
while  the  facts  of  social  life,  on  the  other  hand,  lend 
some  countenance  to  the  view  of  the  "internalists." 
Like  many  such  discussions,  the  best  way  around  them 
is  to  forget  their  arguments,  and  turn  to  a  fresh  and 
independent  investigation  of  the  facts  in  question. 

Things,  Relations,  and  Quantities 
As  I  write,  the  way  is  paved  for  me  by  Professor 
Cohen  {Journ.  of  PhU.,  Fsy,,  and  Set,  MetK  Vol.  XI, 


INTELLIGENCE  AND  MATHEMATICS      155 

No.  23,  Nov.  5,  1914,  pp.  623-24),  who  outlines  a 
theory  of  relations  closely  allied  to  that  which  I  have 
in  mind.    Professor  Cohen  writes :    "  Like  the  distinc- 
tion between  primary  and  secondary  qualities,  the  dis- 
tinction between  qualities  and  relations  seems  to  me  a 
shifting  one  because  the  *  nature '  of  a  thing  changes 
as  the  thing  shifts  from  one  context  to  another.   .    .    . 
To  Professors  Montague  and  Love  joy  the  *  thing'  is 
like  an  old-fashioned  landowner  and  the  qualities  are 
its  immemorial  private  possessions.    A  thing  may  enter 
into  commercial  relations  with  others,  but  these  rela- 
tions are  extrinsic.    It  never  parts  with  its  patrimony. 
To  me,  the  *  nature '  of  a  thing  seems  not  to  be  so 
private  or  fixed.     It  may  consist  entirely  of  bonds, 
stocks,   franchises,   and   other  ways  in  which  public 
credit  or  the  right  to  certain  transactions  is  repre- 
sented.  ...     At  any  rate,  relations  or  transactions 
may  be  regarded  as  wider  or  more  primary  than  quali- 
ties or  possessions.     The  latter  may  be  defined  as  in- 
ternal relations,  that  is,  relations  within  the  system 
that  constitutes  the  '  thing.'     The  nature  of  a  thing 
contains  an  essence,  i.e.,  a  group  of  characteristics 
which,  in  any  given  system  or  context,  remain  invari- 
ant, so  that  if  these  are  changed  the  things  drop  out 
of  our  system  ...  but  the  same  thing  may  present 
different   essences   in  different  contexts.     As   a  thing 
shifts  from  one  context  to  another,  it  acquires  new 
relations  and  drops  old  ones,  and  in  all  transforma- 
tions there  is  a  change  or  readjustment  of  the  line 
between   the   internal   relations   which   constitute   the 


156 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


essence  and  the  external  relations  which  are  outside  the 
inner  circle.  ..." 

Before  continuing,  however,  I  wish  to  make  certain 
interpretations  of  these  statements  for  which,  of  course, 
Professor  Cohen  is  not  responsible,  and  with  which  he 
would  not  be  wholly  in  agreement.     My  general  atti- 
tude will  be  shown  by  the  first  comment.     Concepts 
are  only  means  of  denoting  fragments  of  experience 
directly  or  indirectly  given.     If  we  then  try  to  speak 
of  a  "  nature  of  a  thing  "  two  interpretations  of  this 
expression  are  possible.    The  "  thing  "  as  such  is  only 
a  bit  of  reality  which  some  motive,  that  without  undue 
extension  of  the  term  can  be  called  practical,  has  led 
us  to  treat  as  more  or  less  isolable  from  the  rest  of 
reality.     Its  nature,  then,  may  consist  of  either  its 
relations    to    other   practically    isolated    realities    or 
things,  its   actual  effective  value  in   its   environment 
(and  hence  shift  with  the  environment  as  Professor 
Cohen  points  out),  or  may  consist  of  its  essence,  the 
"  relations   within   the   system,"   considered   from   the 
point  of  view  of  the  potentialities  implied  by  these  for 
various  environments.     In  the  first  sense  the  nature 
may  easily  change  with  change  in  environment,  but  if 
it  changes  in  the  second  sense,  as   Professor  Cohen 
remarks,  it  "  drops  out  of  our  system."    This  I  should 
interpret  as  meaning  that  we  no  longer  have  that  thing, 
but  some  other  thing  selected  from  reality  by  a  differ- 
ent purpose  and  point  of  view.    I  should  not  say  with 
Professor  Cohen  that  "the  same  thing  may  present 
different  essences  in  different  contexts."   Every  reality 
is  more  than  one  thing — man  is  an  aggregate  of  atoms. 


INTELLIGENCE  AND  MATHEMATICS      157 

a  living  being,  an  animal,  and  a  thinker,  and  all  of 
these  are  different  things  in  essence,  although  having 
certain   common   characteristics.     AU   attribution   of 
"  thingship  "  is  abstraction,  and  all  particular  things 
may  be  said  to  participate  in  higher,  i.e.,  more  abstract, 
levels  of  thingship.    Hence  the  effort  to  retain  a  thing- 
ship  through  a  changing  of  essence  seems  to  me  but 
the   echo   of   the   motive   that   has    so   long  deduced 
ontological   monism    from    the   logical    fact    that    to 
conceive  any  two  things  is  at  least  to  throw  them 
into  a  common  universe  of  discourse.     Consequently 
I  should  part  company  from  Professor  Cohen  on  this 
one  point  (which  is  perhaps  largely  a  matter  of  defini- 
tion, though  here  not  unimportant)   and  distinguish 
merely  the  nature  of  a  thing  as  actual  and  as  potential. 
Of  these  the  former  alone  changes  with  the  environ- 
ment, while  the  latter  changes  only  as  the  thing  ceases 
to  be  by  passing  into  some  other  thing.     In  other 
words,  if  the  example  does  not  do  violence  to  Professor 
Cohen's  thought,  I  can  quite  understand  this  paper 
as  a  stimulator  of  criticism,  or  as  a  means  of  kindhng 
a  fire.     Professor  Cohen  would,  I  suspect,  take  this 
to  mean  that  the  same  thing— this  paper— must  be 
looked  upon  as  having  two  different  essences  in  two 
different  contexts,  for  "  the  same  thing  may  possess 
two  different  essences  in  different  contexts,"  whereas 
I  should  prefer  to  interpret  the  situation  as  meanmg 
that  there  are  before  me  three  (and  as  many  more 
as   may   be)    different   things   having   three   different 
essences:  first,  the  paper  as  a  physical  object  having 
a  considerable  number  of  definite  properties ;  second, 


158 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


written  words,  which  are  undoubtedly  in  one  sense  mere 
structural  modifications  of  the  physical  object  paper 
(i.e.,  coloring  on  it  by  ink,  etc.),  but  whose  reality 
for  my  purpose  lies  in  the  power  of  evoking  ideas 
acquired  by  things  as  symbols  (things,  indeed,  but 
things  whose  essence  lies  in  the  effects  they  produce 
upon  a  reader  rather  than  in  their  physical  character)  ; 
and  third,  the  chemical  and  combustion  producing 
properties  of  the  paper.  Now  it  is  simpler  for  me  to 
consider  the  situation  as  one  in  which  three  things 
have  a  common  point  in  thingship,  i.e.,  an  abstract 
element  in  common,  than  to  think  of  "  a  thing  "  shifting 
contexts  and  thereby  changing  its  essence. 

But  now  my  divergence  from  Professor  Cohen  be- 
comes more  marked.  He  continues  with  the  following 
example  (p.  622)  :  "  Our  neighbor  M.  is  tall,  modest, 
cheerful,  and  we  understand  a  banker.  His  tallness, 
modesty,  cheerfulness,  and  the  fact  that  he  is  a  banker 
we  usually  regard  as  his  qualities ;  the  fact  that  he  is 
our  neighbor  is  a  relation  which  he  seems  to  bear  to  us. 
He  may  move  his  residence,  cease  to  be  our  neighbor, 
and  yet  remain  the  same  person  with  the  same  quali- 
ties. If,  however,  I  become  his  tailor,  his  tallness 
becomes  translated  into  certain  relations  of  measure- 
ment; if  I  become  his  social  companion,  his  modesty 
means  that  he  will  stand  in  certain  social  relations 
with  me,  etc."  In  other  words,  we  are  illustrating  the 
doctrine  that  "  qualities  are  reducible  to  relations  '* 
(cf.  p.  623).  This  doctrine  I  cannot  quite  accept 
without  modification,  for  I  cannot  tell  what  it  means. 
Without   any   presuppositions   as   to   subjectivity   or 


INTELLIGENCE  AND  MATHEMATICS      159 

consciousness  (cf.  p.  623,  (a).)  there  are  in  the  world 
as  I  know  it  certain  colored  objects— let  the  expression 
be  taken  naively  to  avoid  idealistico-realistic  discussion 
which  is  here  irrelevant.     Now  it  is  as  unintelligible 
to  me  that  the  red  flowers   and  green  leaves  of  the 
geraniums  before  my  windows  should  be  reducible  to 
mere  relations  in  any  existential  sense,  as  it  would  be 
to  ask  for  the  square  root  of  their  odor,  though  of 
course  it  is  quite  intelligible  that  the  physical  theory 
and   predictions    concerning   green    and   red   surfaces 
(or  odors)   should  be  stated  in  terms  of  atomic  dis- 
tances and  ether  vibrations  of  specific  lengths.     The 
scientific  conception  is,  after  all,  nothing  more  than 
an  indication  of  how  to  take  hold  of  things  and  ma- 
nipulate them  to  get  foreseen  results,  and  its  entities 
are  real  things  only  in  the  sense  that  they  are  the 
practically  effective  keynotes  of  the  complex  reality. 
Accordingly,  instead  of  reducing  qualities  to  relations, 
it  seems  to  me  a  much  more  intelligible  view  to  con- 
sider relations  as  abstract  ways  of  taking  qualities  in 
general,  as  qualities  thought  of  in  their  function  of 
bridging  a  gap  or  making  a  transition  between  two 
bits   of   reality  that   have   previously  been   taken   as 
separate  things.     Indeed,  it  is  just  because  things  are 
not  ontologically  independent  beings  (but  rather  selec- 
tions   from    genuinely    concatenated    existence)     that 
relations  become  important  as  indications  of  the  prac- 
tical significance  of  qualitative  continuities  which  have 
been   neglected   in   the   prior   isolation   of   the   thing. 
Thus,  instead  of  an  existential  world  that  is  "  a  net- 
work of  relations  whose  intersections  are  called  terms  " 


160 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


(p.  622),  I  find  more  intelligible  a  qualitatively  hetero- 
geneous reality  that  can  be  variously  partitioned  into 
things,  and  that  can  be  abstractly  replaced  by  systems 
of  terms  and  relations  that  are  adequate  to  symbolize 
their  effective  nature  in  particular  respects.  There  is 
a  tendency  for  certain  attributes  to  maintain  their 
concreteness  (qualitativeness)  in  things,  and  for  others 
to  suggest  the  connection  of  things  with  other  things, 
and  so  to  emphasize  a  more  abstract  aspect  of  experi- 
ence. Thus  there  arises  a  temporary  and  practical 
distinction  that  tends  to  be  taken  as  opposition  be- 
tween qualities  and  relations.  As  spatial  and  temporal 
characteristics  possess  their  chief  practical  value  in 
the  connection  of  things,  so  they,  like  Professor  Cohen's 
neighbor-character,  are  ordinarily  assumed  abstractly 
as  mere  relations,  while  shapes,  colors,  etc.,  and  Pro- 
fessor Cohen's  "modesty,  tallness,  cheerfulness,"  may 
be  thought  of  more  easily  without  emphasis  on  other 
things  and  so  tend  to  be  accepted  in  their  concreteness 
as  qualities,  but  how  slender  is  the  dividing-line  Pro- 
fessor Cohen's  easy  translation  of  these  things  into 
relations  makes  clear. 

Taken  purely  intellectualistically,  there  would  be 
first  a  fiction  of  separation  in  what  is  really  already 
continuous  and  then  another  fiction  to  bridge  the  gap 
thus  made.  This  would,  of  course,  be  the  falsification 
against  which  Bergson  inveighs.  But  this  interpreta- 
tion is  to  misunderstand  the  nature  of  abstraction. 
Abstraction  does  not  substitute  an  unreal  for  a  real, 
but  selects  from  reality  a  genuine  characteristic  of  it 
which  is  adequate  for  a  particular  purpose.     Thus  to 


INTELLIGENCE  AND  MATHEMATICS      l6l 

conceive  time  as  a  succession  of  moments  is  not  to 
falsify  time,  but  to  select  from  processes  going  on  in 
time  a  characteristic  of  them  through  which  predic- 
tions can  be  made,  which  may  be  verified  and  turned 
into  an  instrument  for  the  control  of  life  or  environ- 
ment. A  similar  misunderstanding  of  abstraction, 
coupled  with  a  fuller  appreciation  than  Bergson 
evinces  of  the  value  of  its  results,  has  led  to  the  neo- 
realistic  insistence  on  turning  abstractions  into  exist- 
ent entities  of  which  the  real  world  is  taken  to  be  an 
organized  composite  aggregate. 

The  practice  of  turning  qualities  into  merely  con- 
scious entities  has  done  much  to  obscure  the  status 
of  scientific  knowing,  for  it  has  left  mere  quantity  as 
the  only  real  character  of  the  actual  world.    But  once 
take  a  realistic  standpoint,  and  quantity  is  no  more 
real  than  quality.    For  primitive  man,  the  qualitative 
aspect  of  reality  is  probably  the  first  to  which  he  gives 
heed,  and  it  is  only  through  efforts  to  get  along  with 
the  world  in  its  qualitative  character  that  its  quantita- 
tive side  is  forced  upon  the  attention.     Then  so-called 
"  exact "  science  is  born,  but  it  does  not  follow  that 
qualities  henceforth  become  insignificant.     They  are 
still  the  basis  of  all  relations,  even  of  those  that  are 
most  directly  construed  as  quantitative.     Quality  and 
quantity  are  only  different  aspects  of  the  world  which 
the  status  of  our  practical  life  leads  us  to  take  sepa- 
rately or  abstractly.    "  Thing  "  is  no  less  an  abstrac- 
tion, in  which  we  disregard  certain  continuities  with 
the  rest  of  the  world  because  we  are  so  constituted  that 
the  demands  of  living  make  it  expedient  to  do  so. 


162 


CREATIVE   INTELLIGENCE 


Things  once  given,  further  abstractions  become  possi- 
ble, among  which  are  those  leading  to  mathematical 
thinking,  in  which  higher  abstractions  are  made, 
guided  always  by  the  "  generating  problem  "  (cf.  Karl 
Schmidt,  Jour,  of  Phil,,  Psy,,  and  Set.  Meth,,  Vol.  X, 
No.  3,  1913,  pp.  64-75). 


The  Function  of  Theory  in  Science 
The  controlling  factors  for  the  progress  of  scientific 
thought  are  inventions  that  lead  the  scientist  into 
closer  contact  with  his  data,  and  direct  attention  to 
complexities  which  would  otherwise  have  escaped  ob- 
servation. This  end  is  best  fulfilled  by  conceiving 
entities  that  under  some  point  of  view  are  practically 
isolable  from  the  context  in  which  they  occur.  Only 
too  often  philosophic  thought  has  confused  this  prac- 
tical segregation  with  ontological  separation,  and  so 
been  obliged  to  introduce  metaphysical  and  external 
relations  to  bring  these  entities  together  again  in  a 
real  world,  when  in  reality  they  have  never  been  sepa- 
rated from  one  another  and  hence  not  from  the  real 
world.  Furthermore,  the  conceptual  model,  built  on 
the  lines  of  a  calculus  of  mathematics,  is  often  con- 
sidered the  truth  par  excellence  after  the  analogy  of 
a  camera's  portrait.  Progress  in  science,  however, 
shows  that  these  models  have  to  be  continually  rebuilt. 
Each  seems  to  lead  to  further  knowledge  that  necessi- 
tates its  reconstruction,  so  that  truth  takes  on  an  ideal 
value  as  an  ultimate  but  unattained,  if  not  unattain-* 
able,  goal,  while  existing  science  becomes   reduced  to 


INTELLIGENCE  AND  MATHEMATICS      l63 

working  hypotheses.  From  a  positivistic  point  of  view, 
however,  the  goal  is  not  only  practically  unattain- 
able, but  it  is  irrational,  for  there  seems  to  be  every 
evidence  that  it  expresses  something  contrary  to  the 
nature  of  the  real.  Yet  scientific  theory  is  not  wholly 
arbitrary.  We  cannot  construe  nature  as  constituted 
of  any  sorts  of  entities  that  may  suit  our  whim.  And 
this  is  because  science  itself  recognizes  that  its  entities 
are  not  really  isolated,  but  are  endowed  with  all  sorts 
of  properties  that  serve  to  connect  them  with  other 
entities.  They  are  only  symbols  of  critical  points  of 
reality  which,  conceived  in  a  certain  way,  make  the 
behavior  of  the  whole  intelligible.  Indeed,  the  only 
significant  sense  in  which  they  are  true  for  the  scientist 
is  that  they  indicate  real  connections  that  might  other- 
wise have  been  overlooked,  and  this  is  only  possible 
from  the  fact  that  reality  has  the  characteristics  that 
they  present  and  that,  with  their  relations,  they  give 
an  approximate  presentation  of  what  is  actually  pre- 
sented just  as  a  successful  portrait  painter  considers 
the  individuality  of  the  eyes,  nose,  mouth,  etc.,  al- 
though he  does  not  imply  that  a  face  is  compounded 
of   these   separate   features    as   a   house   is   built   of 

boards. 

The  atomic  theory,  for  example,  has  undoubtedly 
been  of  the  greatest  service  to  chemistry,  and  atoms 
undoubtedly  denote  a  significant  resting-place  in  the 
analysis  of  the  physical  world.  Yet  in  the  light  of 
electron  theories,  it  is  becoming  more  and  more  evident 
that  atoms  are  not  ultimate  particles,  and  are  not  even 
all  alike  (Becker,  "  Isostasy  and  Radioactivity,"  Sci„ 


164,  CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 

Jan.  29,  1915)  when  they  represent  a  single  sub- 
stance. Again,  while  there  is  as  yet  no  evidence  to  sug- 
gest that  the  electron  must  itself  be  considered  as 
divisible  (unless  it  be  the  distinction  between  the  posi- 
tive and  negative  electron),  there  are  suggestions  that 
electrons  may  themselves  arise  and  pass  away  (cf. 
Moore,  Origin,  and  Nature  of  Life,  p.  39).  "  A  wisely 
positivistic  mind,"  writes  Enriques  (ProhUms  of 
Science,  p.  34),  "  can  see  in  the  atomic  hypothesis  only 
a  subjective  representation,"  *  and,  we  might  add,  "  in 
any  other  hypothesis."  He  continues  (pp.  34-36) : 
**  robbing  the  atom  of  the  concrete  attributes  inherent 
in  its  image,  we  find  ourselves  regarding  it  as  a  mere 
symbol.  The  logical  value  of  the  atomic  theory  de- 
pends, then,  upon  the  establishment  of  a  proper  corre- 
spondence between  the  symbols  which  it  contains  and 
the  reality  which  we  are  trying  to  represent. 

"  Now,  if  we  go  back  to  the  time  when  the  atomic 
theory  was  accepted  by  modern  chemistry,  we  see  that 
the  plain  atomic  formulae  contain  only  the  representa- 
tion of  the  invariable  relations  in  the  combination  of 
simple  bodies,  in  weight  and  volume;  these  last  being 
taken  in  relation  to  a  well-defined  gaseous  state. 

"But,    once    introduced    into    science,    the    atomic 

phraseology  suggested  the  extension  of  the  meaning 

of  the  symbols,  and  the  search  in  reality  for  facts  in 

correspondence  with  its  more  extended  conception. 

"  The  theory  advances,  urged  on,  as  it  were,  by  its 

♦But  it  would  be  better  to  use  the  term  "logically-practical" 
instead  of  "subjective"  with  the  psychical  implications  of  that 
term. 


INTELLIGENCE  AND  MATHEMATICS      165 

metaphysical  nature,  or,  if  you  wish,  by  the  associa- 
tion of  ideas  which  the  concrete  image  of  the  atom 

carries  with  it. 

"  Thus  for  the  plain  formulae  we  have  substituted, 
in  the  chemistry  of  carbon  compounds,  structural  for- 
mulae, which  come  to  represent,  thanks  to  the  disposi- 
tion or  grouping  of  atoms  in  a  molecule,  structural 
relations  of  the  second  degree,  that  is  to  say,  relations 
inherent  in  certain  chemical  transformations  with  re- 
spect to  which  some  groups  of  elements  have  in  some 
way  an  invariant  character.  And  here,  because  the 
image  of  a  simple  molecule  upon  a  plane  does  not 
suffice  to  explain,  for  example,  the  facts  of  isomerism, 
we  must  resort  to  the  stereo-chemical  representation  of 

Van't  HoflF. 

"  Must  we  further  recall  the  kinetic  theory  of  gases, 
the  facts  explained  by  the  breaking  up  of  molecules 
into  ions,  the  hypothesis  suggested,  for  example,  by 
Van  der  Waals  by  the  view  that  an,  atom  has  an  actual 
bulk?  Must  we  point  to  a  physical  phenomenon  of 
quite  a  different  class,  for  example,  to  the  coloring  of 
the  thin  film  forming  the  soap-bubbles  which  W. 
Thomson  has  taken  as  the  measure  of  the  size  of  a 

molecule? 

"  Such  a  rlsum^  of  results  shows  plainly  that  we 
cannot  help  the  progress  of  science  by  blocking  the 
path  of  theory  and  looking  only  at  its  positive  aspects, 
that  is  to  say,  at  the  collection  of  facts  that  it  explains. 
The  value  of  a  theory  lies  rather  in  the  hypothesis 
which  it  can  suggest,  by  means  of  the  psychological 
representation  of  the  symbols. 


166 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENXE 


"  We  shall  not  draw  from  all  this  the  conclusion  that 
the  atomic  hypothesis  ought  to  correspond  to  the  ex- 
tremely subtle  sensations  of  a  being  resembling  a  per- 
fected man.  We  shall  not  even  reason  about  the  possi- 
bility of  those  imaginary  sensations,  in  so  far  as  they 
are  conceived  simply  as  an  extension  of  our  own.  But 
we  shall  repeat,  in  regard  to  the  atomic  theory,  what 
an  illustrious  master  is  said  to  have  remarked  as  to 
the  unity  of  matter:  if  on  first  examination  a  fact 
seems  possible  which  contradicts  the  atomic  view  of 
things,  there  is  a  strong  probability  that  such  a  fact 
will  be  disproved  by  experience. 

"  Does  not  such  a  capacity  for  adaptation  to  facts, 
thus  furnishing  a  model  for  them,  perhaps  denote  the 
positive  reality  of  a  theory?  " 

And  the  above  principles  are  as  true  of  mathematical 
concepts  as  of  chemical.  Everywhere  it  is  "  capacity 
of  adaptation  to  facts "  that  is  the  criterion  of  a 
branch  of  mathematics,  except,  of  course,  that  in 
mathematics  the  facts  are  not  always  physical  facts. 
Mathematics  has  successfully  accomplished  a  generali- 
zation whereby  its  own  methods  furnish  the  material  for 
higher  generalizations.  The  imaginary  number  and  the 
hyper-dimensional  or  non-Euclidian  geometries  may  be 
absurd  if  measured  by  the  standard  of  physical  reality, 
but  they  nevertheless  have  something  real  about  them 
in  relation  to  certain  mathematical  processes  on  a 
lower  level.  There  is  no  philosophic  paradox  about 
modem  arithmetic  or  geometry,  once  it  is  recognized 
that  they  are  merely  abstractions  of  genuine  features 
of  simpler  and  more  obviously  practical  manipulations 


INTELLIGENCE  AND  MATHEMATICS      l67 

that  are  clearly  derived  from  the  dealing  of  a  human 
being  with  genuine  realities. 

In  the  light  of  these  considerations,  I  cannot  help 
feeling  that  the  frequent  attempts  of  mathematicians 
with  a  philosophical  turn  of  mind,  and  philosophers 
who  are  dipping  into  mathematics,  to  derive  geomet- 
rical  entities    from   psychological   considerations   are 
quite  mistaken,  and  are  but  another  example  of  those 
traditional  presuppositions  of  psychology  which.  Pro- 
fessor Dewey  has  pointed  out  (Jour,  of  PhiL,  Psy,, 
and  Set.  MetK  XI,  No.  19,  p.  508),  were  "  bequeathed 
by  seventeenth-century  philosophy  to  psychology,  in- 
stead of  originating  within  psychology"   .    .    .  that 
"  were  wished  upon  it  by  philosophy  when  it  was  as 
yet  too  immature  to  defend  itself." 

Henri  Poincar^  (Science  and  Hypothesis,  Ch.  IV, 
The  Value  of  Science,  Ch.  IV)  and  Enriques  (Proh- 
Urns  of  Science,  Ch.  IV,  esp.  B—The  Psychological 
Acquisition  of  Geometrical  Concepts)  furnish  two  of 
the  most  familiar  examples  of  this  sort  of  philoso- 
phizing. Each  isolates  special  senses,  sight,  touch,  or 
motion,  and  tries  to  show  how  a  being  merely  equipped 
with  one  or  the  other  of  these  senses  might  arrive  at 
geometrical  conceptions  which  differ,  of  course,  from 
space  as  represented  by  our  familiar  Euclidian  geome- 
try. Then  comes  the  question  of  fusing  these  different 
sorts  of  experience  into  a  single  experience  of  which 
geometry  may  be  an  intelligible  transcription.  En- 
riques finds  a  parallel  between  the  historical  develop- 
ment and  the  psycho-genetic  development  of  the  postu- 
lates of  geometry  (loc.  cit.,  p.  214  seq.).    "  The  three 


168 


CREATIVE   INTELLIGENCE 


groups  of  ideas  that  are  connected  with  the  concepts 
that  serve  as  the  basis  for  the  theory  of  continuum 
(Analysis  situs),  of  meterical,  and  of  projective  geome- 
try, may  be  connected,  as  to  their  psychological  origin, 
with  three  groups  of  sensations :  with  the  general  tac- 
tile-muscular sensations,  with  those  of  special  touch, 
and  of  sight,  respectively."    Poincare  even  evokes  an- 
cestral experience  to  make  good  his  case   (Set.  and 
Hyp.,  Ch.  V,  end).     "It  has  often  been  said  that  if 
individual  experience  could  not  create  geometry,  the 
same  is  not  true  of  ancestral  experience.     But  what 
does  that  mean?    Is  it  meant  that  we  could  not  experi- 
mentally demonstrate  Euclid's  postulate,  but  that  our 
ancestors  have  been  able  to  do  it?     Not  in  the  least. 
It  is  meant  that  by  natural  selection  our  mind  has 
adapted  itself  to  the  conditions  of  the  external  world, 
that  it  has  adopted  the  geometry  most  advantageous 
to  the  species :  or  in  other  words,  the  most  convenient.** 
Now  undoubtedly  there  may  be  a  certain  modicum 
of  truth  in  these  statements.     As  implied  by  the  last 
quotation    from   Poincare,   the  modern    scientist   can 
hardly  doubt  that  the  fact  of  the  adaptation  of  our 
thinking  to  the  world  we  live  in  is  due  to  the  fact  that 
it  is  in  that  world  that  we  evolved.     As  is  implied  by 
both  writers,  if  one  could  limit  human  contact  with  the 
world  to  a  particular  form  of  sense  response,  thought 
about  that  world  would  take  place  in  different  terms 
from  what  it  now  does  and  would  presumably  be  less 
efficient.    But  these  admissions  do  not  imply  that  any 
light  is  thrown  upon  the  nature  of  mathematical  enti- 
ties by  such  abstractions.    Russell  {Scientific  Method  in 


INTELLIGENCE  AND  MATHEMATICS      l69 

Philosophy)  is  in  the  curious  position  of  raising  arith- 
metic to  a  purely  logical  status,  but  playing  with 
geometry  and  sensation  after  the  manner  of  Poincar^, 
to  whom  he  gives  somewhat  grudging  praise  on  this 

account. 

The  psychological  methods  upon  which  all  such  in- 
vestigations are  based  are  open  to  all  sorts  of  criticisms. 
Chiefly,  the  conceptions  on  which  they  are  based,  even 
if  correct,  are  only  abstractions.     There  is  not  the 
least  evidence  for  the  existence  of  organisms  with  a 
single  differentiated  sense  organ,  nor  the  least  evidence 
that  there  ever  was  such  an  organism.     Indeed,  ac- 
cording to  modern  accounts  of  the  evolution  of  the 
nervous  system  (cf.  G.  H.  Parker,  Pop.  Sci.  Month., 
Feb.,   1914?)    different  senses  have   arisen  through  a 
gradual  differentiation  of  a  more  general  form  of  stimu- 
lus receptor,  and  consequently,  the  possibility  of  the 
detachment  of  special  senses  is  the  latter  end  of  the 
series  and  not  the  first.     But,  however  this  may  be, 
the  mathematical  concepts  that  we  are  studying  have 
only  been  grasped  by  a  highly  developed  organism, 
man,  but  they  had  already  begun  to  be  grasped  by  him 
in  an  early  stage  of  his  career  before  he  had  analyzed 
his   experience   and   connected   it  with  specific   sense 
organs.     It  may  of  course  be  a  pleasant  exercise,  if 
one  likes   that  sort   of  thing,  to  assume  with  most 
psychologists  certain  elementary  sensations,  and  then 
examine  the  amount  of  information  each  can  give  in 
the  light  of  possible  mathematical  interpretations,  but 
to  do  so  is  not  to  show  that  a  being  so  scantily  endowed 
would  ever  have  acquired  a  geometry  of  the  type  in 


170 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


question,  or  any  geometry  at  all.  Inferences  of  the 
sort  are  in  the  same  category  with  those  from  hypo- 
thetical children,  that  used  to  justify  all  theories  of 
the  pedagogue  and  psychologist,  or  from  the  economic 
man,  that  still,  I  fear,  play  too  great  a  part  in  the 
world  of  social  science. 


VI 

Mathematical  Intelugence 

The  real  nature  of  intelligence  as  it  appears  in  the 
development  of  mathematics  is  something  quite  other 
than  that  of  sensory  analysis.  Intelligence  is  funda- 
mentally skill,  and  although  skill  may  be  acquired  in 
connection  with  some  sort  of  sensory  contact  of  an 
organism  and  environment,  it  is  only  determined  by 
that  contact  in  the  sense  that  if  the  sensory  conditions 
were  different  the  needs  of  the  organism  might  be 
different,  and  the  kind  and  degree  of  skill  it  could  at- 
tain would  be  other  than  under  the  conditions  at  first 
assumed.  Whenever  the  beginnings  of  mathematics 
appear  with  primitive  people,  we  find  a  stage  of  de- 
velopment that  calls  for  the  exercise  of  skill  in  dealing 
with  certain  practical  situations.  Hence  we  found  early 
in  our  investigations  that  it  was  impossible  to  affirm  a 
weak  intelligence  from  limited  achievements  in  count- 
ing, just  as  it  would  be  absurd  to  assume  the  feeble 
intelligence  of  a  philosopher  from  his  inability  to  ma- 
nipulate a  boomerang.  The  instance  merely  sug- 
gests a  kind  of  skill  that  he  has  never  been  led  to 
acquire. 

Yet  it  is  possible  to  distinguish  intellectual  skilly  or 


INTELLIGENCE  AND  MATHEMATICS      171 

better  skills,  from  physical  or  athletic  prowess.     Pri- 
marily, it  is  directed  at  the  formation  and  use  of  con- 
cepts, and  the  concept  is  only  a  symbol  that  can  be 
substituted  for  experiences.    A  well-built  concept  is  a 
part  of  a  system  of  concepts  where  relations  have  taken 
the  place  of  real  connections  in  such  a  fashion  that, 
forgetting  the  actuality,  it  is  possible  to  present  situa- 
tions that  have  never  occurred  or  at  least  are  not 
immediately  given  at  the  time  and  place  of  the  presen- 
tation, and  to  substitute  them  for  actual  situations 
in  such  a  fashion  that  these  may  be  expediently  met, 
if  or  when  such  situations  present  themselves.    An  iso- 
lated concept,  that  is,  one  not  a  part  of  any  system,  is  as 
mythical  an  entity  as  any  savage  ever  dreamed.     In- 
deed, it  would  add  much  to  the  clearness  of  our  think- 
ing if  we  could  limit  the  use  of  "  intelligence  "  to  skill 
in  constructing  and  using  different  systems  of  concepts, 
and    speak    concretely    of    mathematical    intelligence, 
philosophical   intelligence,   economic   intelligence,  his- 
toric   intelligence,    and    the    like.      The    problem    of 
creative  intelligence  is,  after  all,  the  problem  of  the 
acquisition  of  certain  forms  of  skill,  and  while  the 
general  lines  are  the  same  for  all  knowledge  (because 
the  instruments  are  everywhere  symbolic  presentations, 
or  concepts),  in  each  field  the  situation  studied  makes 
different  types  of  difficulties  to  be  overcome  and  sug- 
gest different  methods  of  attaining  the  object. 

In  mathematics,  the  formal  impulse  to  reduce  the 
content  of  fundamental  concepts  to  a  minimum,  and 
to  stress  merely  relations  has  been  most  successful. 
We  saw  its  results  in  such  geometries  as  Hilbert's  and 


172 


CREATIVE   INTELLIGENCE 


Peano's,  where  the  empty  name  "  entity "  supplants 
the  more  concrete  **  point,"  and  the  "  1  "  of  arithmetic 
has  the  same  character.  In  the  social  sciences,  how- 
ever, such  examples  as  the  "  political "  and  the  "  eco- 
nomic "  man  are  signal  failures,  while,  perhaps,  the 
"  atom "  and  the  "  electron "  approach  the  ideal  in 
physics  and  chemistry.  In  mathematics,  all  further 
concepts  can  be  defined  by  collections  of  these  funda- 
mental entities  constituted  in  certain  specified  ways. 
And  it  is  worth  noting  that  both  factually  and  logically 
a  collection  of  entities  so  defined  is  not  a  mere  aggre- 
gate, but  possesses  a  differentiated  character  of  its 
own  which,  although  the  resultant  of  its  constitution, 
is  not  a  property  of  any  of  its  elements.  A  whole 
number  is  thus  a  collection  of  Is,  but  the  properties  of 
the  whole  number  are  something  quite  different  from 
that  of  the  elements  through  which  it  is  constituted, 
just  as  an  atom  may  be  composed  of  electrons  and  yet, 
in  valency,  possess  a  property  that  is  not  the  direct  an- 
alogue of  any  property  possessed  by  electrons  not  so 
organized. 

Natural  science,  however,  considers  such  building 
up  of  its  fundamental  entities  into  new  entities  as  a 
process  taking  place  in  time  rather  than  as  consequent 
upon  change  of  form  of  the  whole  rendering  new 
analytic  forms  expedient.  Hence  it  points  to  the  oc- 
currence of  genuine  novelties  in  the  realm  of  objective 
reality.  Mathematics,  on  the  other  hand,  has  general- 
ized its  concepts  beyond  the  facts  implied  in  spatial 
and  temporal  observations,  so  that  while  significant 
in  both  fields  by  virtue  of  the  nature  of  its  abstractions, 


INTELLIGENCE  AND  MATHEMATICS      17S 

its  novelties  are  the  novelties  of  new  conceptual  forma- 
tions, a  distinguishing  of  previously  unnoted  generaliza- 
tions   of    relations    existent    in    the    realm    of    facts. 
But  the  fact  that  time  has  thus  passed  beyond  its 
empirical  meaning  in  the  mathematical  realm  is  no 
ground  for  giving  mathematics  an  elevated  position  as 
a  science  of  eternal  realities,  of  subsistent  beings,  or 
the  like.    The  generalization  of  concepts  to  cover  both 
spatial  and  temporal  facts  does  not  create  new  entities 
for  which  a  home  must  be  provided  in  the  partition  of 
realities.     Metaphysicians  should  not  be  the  "  needy 
knife  grinders"  of  M.  Anatole  France  (cf.  Garden  of 
Epicurus,    Ch.    "The   Language   of   the  Metaphysi- 
cians").   Nevertheless,  the  success  of  abstraction  for 
mathematical  intelligence  has  been  immense. 

No  significant  thinking  is  wholly  the  work  of  an 
individual  man.    Ideas  are  a  product  of  social  coopera- 
tion in  which  some  have  wrested  crude  concepts  from 
nature,  others  have  refined  them  through  usage,  and 
still  others  have  built  them  into  an  effective  system. 
The  first  steps  were  undoubtedly  taken  in  an  effort  to 
communicate,  and  progress  has  been  in  part  the  prog- 
ress of  language.     The  original  nature  of  man  may 
have  as  a  part  those  reactions  which  we  call  curiosity, 
but,  as  Auguste  Comte  long  ago  pointed  out  (L^vy- 
Bruhl,  A.  Comte,  p.  67),  these  reactions  are  among  the 
feeblest  of  our  nature  and  without  the  pressure  of  prac- 
tical affairs  could  hardly  have  advanced  the  race  be- 
yond barbarism.     Science  was  the  plaything  of  the 
Greek,  the  consolation  of  the  Middle  Ages,  and  only 
for  the  modern  has  it  become  an  instrument  in  such 


17* 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


fashion  as  to  mark  an  epoch  in  the  still  dawning  dis- 
covery of  mind. 

Man  is,  after  all,  rational  only  because  through  his 
nervous  system  he  can  hold  his  immediate  responses 
in  check  and  finally  react  as  a  being  that  has  had 
experiences  and  profited  by  them.  Concepts  are  the 
medium  through  which  these  experiences  are  in  effect 
preserved ;  they  express  not  merely  a  fact  recorded  but 
also  the  significance  of  a  fact,  not  merely  a  contact 
with  the  world  but  also  an  attitude  toward  the  future. 
It  may  be  that  the  mere  judgment  of  fact,  a  citation 
of  resemblances  and  differences,  is  the  basis  of  scien- 
tific knowledge,  but  before  knowledge  is  worthy  of  the 
name,  these  facts  have  undergone  an  ideal  transforma- 
tion controlled  by  the  needs  of  successful  prediction 
and  motivated  by  that  self-conscious  realization  of  the 
value  of  control  which  has  raised  man  above  the  beasts 
of  the  field. 

The  realm  of  mathematics,  which  we  have  been  ex- 
amining, is  but  one  aspect  of  the  growth  of  intelligence. 
But  in  theory,  at  least,  it  is  among  the  most 
interesting,  since  in  it  are  reached  the  highest 
abstractions  of  science,  while  its  empirical  be- 
ginnings are  not  lost.  But  its  processes  and 
their  significance  are  in  no  way  different  in 
essence  from  those  of  the  other  sciences.  It  marks 
one  road  of  specialization  in  the  discovery  of  mind. 
And  in  these  terms  we  may  read  all  history.  To 
quote  Professor  Woodbridge  (Columbia  University 
Quarterly,  Dec,  1912,  p.  10):  "We  may  see  man 
rising  from  the  ground,  startled  by  the  first  dim  inti- 


INTELLIGENCE  AND  MATHEMATICS      175 

mation  that  the  things  and  forces  about  him  are 
convertible  and  controllable.  Curiosity  excites  him, 
but  he  is  subdued  by  an  untrained  imagination.  The 
things  that  frighten  him,  he  tries  to  frighten  in  return. 
The  things  that  bless  him,  he  blesses.  He  would  scare 
the  earth's  shadow  from  the  moon  and  sacrifice  his 
dearest  to  a  propitious  sky.  It  avails  not.  But  the 
little  things  teach  him  and  discipline  his  imagination. 
He  has  kicked  the  stone  that  bruised  him  only  to  be 
bruised  again.  So  he  converts  the  stone  into  a  weapon 
and  begins  the  subjugation  of  the  world,  singing  a  song 
of  triumph  by  the  way.    Such  is  his  history  in  epitome 

a  blunder,  a  conversion,  a  conquest,  and  a  song. 

That  sequence  he  will  repeat  in  greater  things.  He 
will  repeat  it  yet  and  rejoice  where  he  now  despairs, 
converting  the  chaos  of  his  social,  political,  industrial, 
and  emotional  life  into  wholesome  force.  He  will  sing 
again.  But  the  discovery  of  mind  comes  first,  and  then, 
the  song." 


SCIENTIFIC  METHOD 


177 


SCIENTIFIC  METHOD  AND  INDIVIDUAL 

THINKER 

GEORGE    H.    MEAD 

The  scientist  in  the  ancient  world  found  his  test  of 
reality  in  the  evidence  of  the  presence  of  the  essence 
of  the  object.  This  evidence  came  by  way  of  observa- 
tion, even  to  the  Platonist.  Plato  could  treat  this 
evidence  as  the  awaking  of  memories  of  the  ideal  essence 
of  the  object  seen  in  a  world  beyond  the  heavens  during 
a  former  stage  of  the  existence  of  the  soul.  In  the 
language  of  Theatetus  it  was  the  agreement  of  fluc- 
tuating sensual  content  with  the  thought-content  im- 
printed in  or  viewed  by  the  soul.  In  Aristotle  it  is  again 
the  agreement  of  the  organized  sensuous  experience 
with  the  vision  which  the  mind  gets  of  the  essence  of 
the  object  through  the  perceptual  experience  of  a  num- 
ber of  instances.  That  which  gives  the  stamp  of  reality 
is  the  coincidence  of  the  percept  with  a  rational  content 
which  must  in  some  sense  be  in  the  mind  to  insure 
knowledge,  as  it  must  be  in  the  cosmos  to  insure  exist- 
ence, of  the  object.  The  relation  of  this  test  of  reality 
to  an  analytical  method  is  evident.  Our  perceptual 
world  is  always  more  crowded  and  confused  than  the 
ideal  contents  by  which  the  reality  of  its  meaning  is 
to  be  tested.  The  aim  of  the  analysis  varies  with  the 
character  of  the  science.  In  the  case  of  Aristotle's 
theoretical  sciences,  such  as  mathematics  and  meta- 

176 


physics,  where  one  proceeds  by  demonstration  from  the 
given   existences,   analysis   isolates    such   elements    as 
numbers,  points,  lines,  surfaces,   and  solids,  essences 
and  essential  accidents.     Aristotle  approaches  nature, 
however,  as  he  approaches  the  works  of  human  art. 
Indeed,  he  speaks  of  nature  as  the  artificer  par  excel- 
lence.    In  the  study  of  nature,  then,  as  in  the  study 
of  the  practical  and  productive  arts,  it  is  of  the  first 
importance  that  the  observer  should  have  the  idea — the 
final  cause — as  the  means  of  deciphering  the  nature  of 
living  forms.    Here  analysis  proceeds  to  isolate  charac- 
ters which  are  already  present  in  forms  whose  functions 
are  assumed  to  be  known.    By  analogy  such  identities 
as  that  of  fish  fins  with  limbs  of  other  vertebrates  are 
assumed,  and  some  very  striking  anticipations  of  mod- 
ern biological  conceptions  and  discoveries  are  reached. 
Aristotle  recognizes  that  the  theory  of  the  nature  of 
the  form  or  essence  must  be  supported  by  observation 
of  the  actual  individual.     What  is  lacking  is  any  body 
of  observation  which  has  value  apart  from  some  theory. 
He  tests  his  theory  by  the  observed  individual  which 
is  already  an  embodied  theory,  rather  than  by  what 
we  are  wont  to  call  the  facts.     He  refers  to  other  ob- 
servers to  disagree  with  them.     He  does  not  present 
their  observations  apart  from  their  theories  as  mate- 
rial which  has  existential  value,  independent  for  the 
time  being  of  any  hypothesis.     And  it  is  consistent 
with  this  attitude  that  he  never  presents  the  observa- 
tions of  others  in  support  of  his  own  doctrine.     His 
analysis  within  this  field  of  biological  observation  does 
not  bring  him  back  to  what,  in  modern  science,  are  the 


178 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


SCIENTIFIC  METHOD 


179 


data,  but  to  general  characters  which  make  up  the 
definition  of  the  form.  His  induction  involves  a  gath- 
ering of  individuals  rather  than  of  data.  Thus  an- 
alysis in  the  theoretical,  the  natural,  the  practical, 
and  the  productive  sciences,  leads  back  to  universals. 
This  is  quite  consistent  with  Aristotle's  metaphysical 
position  that  since  the  matter  of  natural  objects  has 
reality  through  its  realization  in  the  forn^,  whatever 
appears  without  such  meaning  can  be  accounted  for 
only  as  the  expression  of  the  resistance  which  matter 
offers  to  this  realization.  This  is  the  field  of  a  blind 
necessity,  not  that  of  a  constructive  science. 

Continuous  advance  in  science  has  been  possible 
only  when  analysis  of  the  object  of  knowledge  has  sup- 
plied not  elements  of  meanings  as  the  objects  have 
been  conceived  but  elements  abstracted  from  those 
meanings.  That  is,  scientific  advance  implies  a  will- 
ingness to  remain  on  terms  of  tolerant  acceptance  of 
the  reality  of  what  cannot  be  stated  in  the  accepted 
doctrine  of  the  time,  but  what  must  be  stated  in  the 
form  of  contradiction  with  these  accepted  doctrines. 
The  domain  of  what  is  usually  connoted  by  the  term 
facts  or  data  belongs  to  the  field  lying  between  the  old 
doctrine  and  the  new.  This  field  is  not  inhabited  by 
the  Aristotelian  individual,  for  the  individual  is  but 
the  realization  of  the  form  or  universal  essence.  When 
the  new  theory  has  displaced  the  old,  the  new  indi- 
vidual appears  in  the  place  of  its  predecessor,  but 
during  the  period  within  which  the  old  theory  is  being 
dislodged  and  the  new  is  arising,  a  consciously  growing 
science  finds  itself  occupied  with  what  is  on  the  one 


hand  the  debris  of  the  old  and  on  the  other  the  building 
material  of  the  new.    Obviously,  this  must  find  its  im- 
mediate   raison  d'etre   in    something   other    than    the 
meaning  that  is  gone  or  the  meaning  that  is  not  yet 
here.     It  is  true  that  the  barest  facts  do  not  lack 
meaning,  though  a  meaning  which  has  been  theirs  in 
the  past  is  lost.     The  meaning,  however,  that  is  still 
theirs  is  confessedly  inadequate,  otherwise  there  would 
be  no  scientific  problem   to  be  solved.     Thus,  when 
older  theories  of  the  spread  of  infectious  diseases  lost 
their  validity  because  of  instances  where  these  expla- 
nations could  not  be  applied,  the  diagnoses  and  ac- 
counts which  could  still  be  given  of  the  cases  of  the 
sickness  themselves  were  no  explanation  of  the  spread 
of  the  infection.     The  facts  of  the  spread  of  the  in- 
fection could  be  brought  neither  under  a  doctrine  of 
contagion  which  was  shattered  by  actual  events  nor 
under  a  doctrine  of  the  germ  theory  of  disease,  which 
was  as  yet  unborn.     The  logical  import  of  the  de- 
pendence of  these  facts  upon  observation,  and  hence 
upon  the  individual  experience  of  the  scientist,  I  shall 
have  occasion  to  discuss  later;  what  I  am  referring  to 
here  is  that  the  conscious  growth  of  science  is  accom- 
panied by  the  appearance  of  this  sort  of  material. 
There  were  two  fields  of  ancient  science,  those  of 
mathematics  and  of  astronomy,  within  which  very  con- 
siderable advance  was  achieved,  a  fact  which  would 
seem  therefore  to  offer  exception  to  the  statement  just 
made.    The  theory  of  the  growth  of  mathematics  is  a 
disputed  territory,  but  whether  mathematical  discovery 
and  invention  take  place  by  steps  which  can  be  identified 


180 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


with  those  which  mark  the  advance  in  the  experimental 
sciences    or    not,    the    individual    processes    in    which 
the  discoveries  and  inventions  have  arisen  are  almost 
uniformly  lost  to  view  in  the  demonstration  which  pre- 
sents the  results.     It  would  be  improper  to  state  that 
no  new  data  have  arisen  in  the  development  of  mathe- 
matics, in  the  face  of  such  innovations  as  the  minus 
quantity,  the  irrational,  the  imaginary,  the  infinitesi- 
mal, or  the  transfinite  number,  and  yet  the  innovations 
appear  as  the  recasting  of  the  mathematical  theories 
rather  than  as  new  facts.     It  is  of  course  true  that 
these  advances  have  depended  upon  problems  such  as 
those  which  in  the  researches  of  Kepler  and  Galileo 
led  to  the  early  concepts  of  the  infinitesimal  procedure, 
and  upon  such  undertakings  as  bringing  the  combined 
theories  of  geometry  and  algebra  to  bear  upon  the 
experiences  of  continuous  change.    For  a  century  after 
the  formulation  of  the  infinitesimal  method  men  were 
occupied  in   carrying  the  new  tool  of   analysis  into 
every    field    where   its    use    promised    advance.      The 
conceptions   of  the  method  were  uncritical.     Its   ap- 
plications  were   the   center   of   attention.     The  next 
century  undertook  to  bring  order  into  the  concepts, 
consistency    into    the    doctrine,    and    rigor    into    the 
reasoning.      The  dominating  trend  of  this  movement 
was    logical    rather    than    methodological.      The    de- 
velopment was   in   the  interest  of  the   foundations   of 
mathematics  rather  than  in  the  use  of  mathematics 
as  a  method  for  solving  scientific  problems.    Of  course 
this  has  in  no  way  interfered  with  the   freedom   of 
application  of  mathematical  technique  to  the  problems 


SCIENTIFIC  METHOD 


181 


of  physical  science.  On  the  contrary,  it  was  on  account 
of  the  richness  and  variety  of  the  contents  which  the 
use  of  mathematical  methods  in  the  physical  sciences 
imported  into  the  doctrine  that  this  logical  houseclean- 
ing  became  necessary  in  mathematics.     The  movement 
has  been  not  only  logical  as  distinguished  from  metho- 
dological but  logical  as  distinguished  from  metaphysical 
as  well.    It  has  abandoned  a  Euclidean  space  with  its 
axioms  as  a  metaphysical  presupposition,  and  it  has 
abandoned  an  Aristotelian  subsumptive  logic  for  which 
definition  is  a  necessary  presupposition.     It  recognizes 
that  everything  cannot  be  proved,  but  it  does  not  under- 
take to  state  what  the  axiomata  shall  be;  and  it  also 
recognizes  that  not  everything  can  be  defined,  and  does 
not  undertake  to  determine  what  shall  be  defined  im- 
plicitly and  what  explicitly.    Its  constants  are  logical 
constants,  as  the  proposition,  the   class    and   the   re- 
lation.    With  these  and  their  like  and  with  relatively 
few  primitive  ideas,  which  are  represented  by  symbols, 
and  used  according  to  certain  given  postulates,  it  be- 
comes possible  to  bring  the  whole  body  of  mathematics 
within  a  single  treatment.     The  development  of  this 
pure  mathematics,  which  comes  to  be  a  logic  of  the 
mathematical  sciences,  has  been  made  possible  by  such 
a  generalization  of  number  theory  and  theories  of  the 
elements  of  space  and  time  that  the  rigor  of  mathe- 
matical   reasoning    is     secured,    while    the    physical 
scientist    is    left    the    widest    freedom    in    the    choice 
and    construction    of   concepts    and   imagery   for   his 
hypotheses.     The  only  compulsion  is  a  logical  com- 
pulsion.   The  metaphysical  compulsion  has  disappeared 


182 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


from  mathematics  and  the  sciences  whose  techniques  it 
provides. 

It  was  just  this  compulsion  which  confined  ancient 
science.  Euclidian  geometry  defined  the  limits  of 
mathematics.  Even  mechanics  was  cultivated  largely 
as  a  geometrical  field.  The  metaphysical  doctrine 
according  to  which  physical  objects  had  their  own  places 
and  their  own  motions  determined  the  limits  within 
which  astronomical  speculations  could  be  carried  on. 
Within  these  limits  Greek  mathematical  genius  achieved 
marvelous  results.  The  achievements  of  any  period 
will  be  limited  by  two  variables:  the  type  of  problem 
against  which  science  formulates  its  methods,  and  the 
materials  which  analysis  puts  at  the  scientist's  dis- 
posal in  attacking  the  problems.  The  technical  prob- 
lems of  the  trisection  of  an  angle  and  the  duplication 
of  a  cube  are  illustrations  of  the  problems  which 
characterize  a  geometrical  doctrine  that  was  finding 
its  technique.  There  appears  also  the  method  of  an- 
alysis of  the  problem  into  simpler  problems,  the 
assumption  of  the  truth  of  the  conclusion  to  be  proved 
and  the  process  of  arguing  from  this  to  a  known  truth. 
The  more  fundamental  problem  which  appears  first 
as  the  squaring  of  the  circle,  which  becomes  that  of 
the  determination  of  the  relation  of  the  circle  to  its 
diameter  and  development  of  the  method  of  exhaustion, 
leads  up  to  the  sphere,  the  regular  polyhedra,  to  conic 
sections  and  the  beginnings  of  trigonometry.  Number 
was  not  freed  from  the  relations  of  geometrical  magni- 
tudes, though  Archimedes  could  conceive  of  a  number 
greater  or  smaller  than  any  assignable  magnitude. 


SCIENTIFIC  METHOD 


183 


With  the  method  of  exhaustion,  with  the  conceptions 
of  number  found  in  writings  of  Archimedes  and  others, 
with  the  beginnings  of  spherical  geometry  and  trigo- 
nometry, and  with  the  slow  growth  of  algebra  finding 
its  highest  expression  in  that  last  flaring  up  of  Greek 
mathematical  creation,  the  work  of  Diophantes ;  there 
were  present  all  the  conceptions  which  were  necessary 
for  attack  upon  the  problems  of  velocities  and  chang- 
ing velocities,  and  the  development  of  the  method  of 
analysis  which  has  been  the  revolutionary  tool  of  Eu- 
rope since  the  Renaissance.     But  the  problems  of  a 
relation  between  the  time  and  space  of  a  motion  that 
should  change  just  as  a  motion,  without  reference  to 
the  essence  of  the  object  in  motion,  were  problems 
which  did  not,  perhaps  could  not,  arise  to  confront 
the  Greek  mind.    In  any  case  its  mathematics  was  firmly 
embedded  in  a  Euclidian  space.     Though  there  are 
indications  of  some  distrust,  even  in  Greek  times,  of 
the  parallel  axiom,  the  suggestion  that  mathematical 
reasoning  could  be  made  rigorous  and  comprehensive 
independently  of  the  specific  content   of  axiom   and 
definition   was   an   impossible   one   for   the   Greek,   be- 
cause such  a  suggestion  could  be  made  only  on  the 
presupposition   of  a  number  theory   and   an   algebra 
capable  of  stating  a  continuum  in  terms  which  are 
independent  of  the  sensuous  intuition  of  space  and  time 
and  of  the  motion  that  takes  place  within  space  and 
time.     In  the  same  fashion  mechanics  came  back  to 
fundamental  generalizations  of  experience  with  refer- 
ence to  motions  which  served  as  axioms  of  mechanics, 
both  celestial  and  terrestial:  the  assumptions  of  the 


184 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


SCIENTIFIC  METHOD 


185 


natural  motion  of  earthly  substances  to  their  own 
places  in  straight  lines,  and  of  celestial  bodies  in  circles 
and  uniform  velocities,  of  an  equilibrium  where  equal 
weights  operate  at  equal  distances  from  the  fulcrum. 

The  incommensurable  of  Pythagoras  and  the  para- 
doxes of  Zeno  present  the  "  no  thoroughfares  "  of  an- 
cient mathematical  thought.     Neither  the  continuum 
of  space  nor  of  motion  could  be  broken  up  into  ulti- 
mate units,  when  incommensurable  ratios  existed  which 
could  not  be  expressed,  and  when  motion  refused  to  be 
divided  into  positions  of  space  or  time  since  these  are 
functions  of  motion.     It  was  not  until  an  algebraic 
theory  of  number  led  mathematicians  to  the  use  of 
expressions  for  the  irrational,  the  minus,  and  the  im- 
aginary numbers  through  the  logical  development  of 
generalized  expressions,  that  problems  could  be  formu- 
lated in  which  these  irrational  ratios  and  quantities 
were  involved,  though  it  is  also  true  that  the  effort 
to  deal  with  problems  of  this  character  was  in  no  small 
degree  responsible  for  the  development  of  the  algebra. 
Fixed  metaphysical  assumptions  in  regard  to  number, 
space,  time,  motion,  and  the  nature  of  physical  objects 
determined  the  limits  within  which  scientific  investiga- 
tion could  take  place.     Thus  though  the  hypothesis 
of  Copernicus  and  in  all  probability  of  Tycho  Brahe 
were  formulated  by  Greek  astronomers,  their  physical 
doctrine  was  unable  to  use  them  because  they  were  in 
flagrant  contradiction  with  the  definitions  the  ancient 
world  gave  to  earthly  and  celestial  bodies  and  their 
natural  motions.     The  atomic  doctrine  with  Democri- 
tus'  thoroughgoing  undertaking  to  substitute  a  quan- 


titative for  a  qualitative  conception  of  matter  with  the 
location  of  the  qualitative  aspects  of  the  world  in  the 
experience  of  the  soul  appealed  only  to  the  Epicurean 
who  used  the  theory  as  an  exorcism  to  drive  out  of  the 
universe  the  spirits  which  disturbed  the  calm  of  the 
philosopher. 

There  was  only  one  field  in  which  ancient  science 
seemed    to    break    away    from    the   fixed   assumptions 
of  its  metaphysics  and  from  the  definitions  of  natural 
objects  which  were  the  bases   for  their  scientific  in- 
ferences, this  was  the  field  of  astronomy  in  the  period 
after  Eudoxus.     Up  to  and  including  the  theories  of 
Eudoxus,  physical  and  mathematical  astronomy  went 
hand  in  hand.    Eudoxus'  nests  of  spheres  within  spheres 
hung  on  different  axes  revolving  in  different  uniform 
periods  was  the  last  attempt  of  the  mathematician 
philosopher  to  state  the  anomalies  of  the  heavens,  and 
to  account  for  the  stations,  the  retrogressions,  and 
varying  velocities  of  planetary  bodies  by  a  theory  re- 
solving all  phenomena  of  these  bodies  into  motions  of 
uniform  velocities  in  perfect  circles,  and  also  placing 
these  phenomena  within  a  physical  theory  consistent 
with  the  prevailing  conceptions  of  the  science  and  phi- 
losophy of  the  time.    As  a  physicist  Aristotle  felt  the 
necessity  of  introducing  further  spheres  between  the 
nests  of  spheres  assigned  by  Eudoxus  to  the  planetary 
bodies,  spheres  whose  peculiar  motions  should  correct 
the  tendency  of  the  different  groups  of  spheres  to  pass 
their  motions  on  to  each  other.    Since  the  form  of  the 
orbits  of  heavenly  bodies  and  their  velocities  could  not 
be  considered  to  be  the  results  of  their  masses  and  of 


186 


CREATIVE   INTELLIGENCE 


SCIENTIFIC  METHOD 


187 


their  relative  positions  with  reference  to  one  another; 
since  it  was  not  possible  to  calculate  the  velocities  and 
orbits  from  the  physical  characters  of  the  bodies,  since 
in  a  word  these  physical  characters  did  not  enter  into 
the  problem  of  calculating  the  positions  of  the  bodies 
nor  offer  explanations  for  the  anomalies  which  the 
mathematical  astronomer  had  to  explain,  it  was  not 
strange  that  he  disinterested  himself  from  the  meta- 
physical celestial  mechanics  of  his  time  and  concen- 
trated his  attention  upon  the  geometrical  hypotheses 
by  means  of  which  he  could  hope  to  resolve  into  uni- 
form revolutions  in  circular  orbits  the  anomalous  mo- 
tions of  the  planetary  bodies.  The  introduction  of  the 
epicycle  with  the  deferent  and  the  eccentric  as  working 
hypotheses  to  solve  the  anomalies  of  the  heavens  is 
to  be  comprehended  largely  in  view  of  the  isolation  of 
the  mathematical  as  distinguished  from  the  physical 
problem  of  astronomy.  In  no  sense  were  these  concep- 
tions working  hypotheses  of  a  celestial  mechanics. 
They  were  the  only  means  of  an  age  whose  mathematics 
was  almost  entirely  geometrical  for  accomplishing 
what  a  later  generation  could  accomplish  by  an  alge- 
braic theory  of  functions.  As  has  been  pointed  out, 
the  undertaking  of  the  ancient  mathematical  astrono- 
mer to  resolve  the  motions  of  planetary  bodies  into 
circular,  uniform,  continuous,  symmetrical  movements 
is  comparable  to  the  theorem  of  Fourier  which  allows 
the  mathematician  to  replace  any  one  periodic  func- 
tion by  a  sum  of  circular  functions.  In  other  words, 
the  astronomy  of  the  Alexandrian  period  is  a  somewhat 
cumbrous  development  of  the  mathematical  technique 


of  the  time  to  enable  the  astronomer  to  bring  the  anom- 
alies of  the  planetary  bodies,  as  they  increased  under 
observation,    within    the    axioms    of    a    metaphysical 
physics.     The  genius  exhibited  in  the  development  of 
the  mathematical  technique  places  the  names  of  Apol- 
lonius  of  Perga,  Hipparchus  of  Nicaea,  and  Ptolemy 
among  the  great  mathematicians  of  the  world,  but  they 
never  felt  themselves  free  to  attack  by  their  hypotheses 
the  fundamental  assumptions  of  the  ancient  metaphysi- 
cal doctrine  of  the  universe.     Thus  it  was  said  of 
Hipparchus  by  Adrastus,  a  philosopher  of  the  first 
century  A.  D.,  in  explaining  his  preference  for  the 
epicycle  to  the  eccentric  as  a  means  of  analyzing  the 
motions  of  the  planetary  bodies :    "  He  preferred  and 
adopted  the  principle  of  the  epicycle  as  more  probable 
to   his   mind,   because  it  ordered   the   system   of   the 
heavens  with  more  symmetry  and  with  a  more  intimate 
dependence  with  reference  to  the  center  of  the  universe. 
Although  he  guarded  himself  from  assuming  the  role 
of  the  physicist  in  devoting  himself  to  the  investigations 
of  the  real  movements  of  the  stars,  and  in  undertaking 
to  distinguish  between  the  motions  which  nature  has 
adopted  from  those  which  the  appearances  present  to 
our  eyes,  he  assumed  that  every  planet  revolved  along 
an  epicycle,  the  center  of  which  describes  a  circum- 
ference concentric  with  the  earth."    Even  mathematical 
astronomy  does  not  offer  an  exception  to  the  scientific 
method    of   the    ancient    world,    that    of   bringing   to 
consciousness    the    concepts    involved    in    their    world 
of  experience,   organizing  these   concepts  with   refer- 
ence  to   each,   analyzing  and   restating   them  within 


188 


CREATIVE   INTELLIGENCE 


the  limits  of  their  essential  accidents,  and  assimilat- 
ing the  concrete  objects  of  experience  to  these  typical 
forms  as  more  or  less  complete  realizations. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  process  of  Greek  self-con- 
scious reflection  and  analysis,  the  mind  ran  riot  among 
the  concepts  and  their  characters  until  the  contradic- 
tions which  arose  from  these  unsystematized  specula- 
tions brought  the  Greek  mind  up  to  the  problems  of 
criticism  and  scientific  method.  Criticism  led  to  the 
separation  of  the  many  from  the  one,  the  imperfect  copy 
from  the  perfect  type,  the  sensuous  and  passionate  from 
the  rational  and  the  intrinsically  good,  the  impermanent 
particular  from  the  incorruptible  universal.  The  line 
of  demarcation  ran  between  the  lasting  reality  that 
answered  to  critical  objective  thought  and  the  realm 
of  perishing  imperfect  instances,  of  partially  realized 
forms  full  of  unmeaning  differences  due  to  distortion 
and  imperfection,  the  realm  answering  to  a  sensuous 
passionate  unreflective  experience.  It  would  be  a  quite 
inexcusable  mistake  to  put  all  that  falls  on  the  wrong 
side  of  the  line  into  a  subjective  experience,  for  these 
characters  belonged  not  alone  to  the  experience,  but  also 
to  the  passing  show,  to  the  world  of  imperfectly  de- 
veloped matter  which  belonged  to  the  perceptual  pas- 
sionate experience.  While  it  may  not  then  be  classed 
as  subjective,  the  Greeks  of  the  Sophistic  period  felt 
that  this  phase  of  existence  was  an  experience  which 
belongs  to  the  man  in  his  individual  life,  that  life  in 
which  he  revolts  from  the  conventions  of  society,  in 
which  he  questions  accepted  doctrine,  in  which  he  dif- 
ferentiates himself  from  his  fellows.    Protagoras  seems 


SCIENTIFIC  METHOD 


189 


even  to  have  undertaken  to  make  this  experience  of  the 
individual,  the  stuff  of  the  known  world.     It  is  difficult 
adequately    to    assess    Protagoras'   undertaking.      He 
seems  to  be  insisting  both  that  the  man's  experience  as 
his  own  must  be  the  measure  of  reality  as  known  and 
on  the  other  hand  that  these  experiences  present  norms 
which  offer  a  choice  in  conduct.     If  this  is  true  Pro- 
tagoras conceived  of  the  individual's  experience  in  its 
atypical  and  revolutionary  form  as  not  only  real  but 
the  possible  source  of  fuller  realities  than  the  world 
of  convention.     The  undertaking  failed  both  in  philo- 
sophic  doctrine   and   in  practical  politics.     It   failed 
in  both  fields  because  the  subjectivist,  both  in  theory 
and    practice,    did    not    succeed    in    finding    a    place 
for  the  universal  character  of  the  object,  its  mean- 
ing, in  the  mind  of  the  individual  and  thus  in  find- 
ing in  this  experience  the   hypothesis   for  the   recon- 
struction of  the  real  world.     In  the  ancient  world  the 
atypical  individual,  the  revolutionist,  the  non-conform- 
ist was  a  self-seeking  adventurer  or  an  anarchist,  not 
an  innovator  or  reformer,  and  subjectivism  in  ancient 
philosophy  remained  a  skeptical  attitude  which  could 
destroy  but  could  not  build  up. 

Hippocrates  and  his  school  came  nearer  consciously 
using  the  experience  of  the  individual  as  the  actual 
material  of  the  object  of  knowledge.  In  the  skeptical 
period  in  which  they  flourished  they  rejected  on  the 
one  hand  the  magic  of  traditional  medicine  and  on  the 
other  the  empty  theorizing  that  had  been  called  out 
among  the  physicians  by  the  philosophers.  Their  prac- 
tical tasks  held  them  to  immediate  experience.     Their 


190 


CREATIVE   INTELLIGENCE 


functions  in  the  gymnasia  gave  their  medicine  an  in- 
terest in  health  as  well  as  in  disease,  and  directed  their 
attention  largely  toward  diet,  exercise,  and  climate 
in  the  treatment  even  of  disease.  In  its  study  they  have 
left  the  most  admirable  sets  of  observations,  including 
even  accounts  of  acknowledged  errors  and  the  results 
of  different  treatments  of  cases,  which  ancient  science 
can  present.  It  was  the  misfortune  of  their  science 
that  it  dealt  with  a  complicated  subject-matter  de- 
pendent for  its  successful  treatment  upon  the  whole 
body  of  physical,  chemical,  and  biological  disciplines 
as  well  as  the  discovery  and  invention  of  complicated 
techniques.  They  were  forced  after  all  to  adopt  a 
hopelessly  inadequate  physiological  theory — that  of 
the  four  humors — with  the  corresponding  doctrine  of 
health  and  disease  as  the  proper  and  improper  mix- 
ture of  these  fluids.  Their  marvelously  fine  observation 
of  symptoms  led  only  to  the  definition  of  types  and  a 
medical  practice  which  was  capable  of  no  consistent 
progress  outside  of  certain  fields  of  surgery.  Thus 
even  Greek  medicine  was  unable  to  develop  a  different 
type  of  scientific  method  except  in  so  far  as  it  kept  alive 
an  empiricism  which  played  a  not  unimportant  part 
in  post-Aristotelian  philosophy.  Within  the  field  of 
astronomy  in  explaining  the  anomalies  of  the  heavens 
involved  in  their  metaphysical  assumptions,  they  built 
up  a  marvelously  perfect  Euclidian  geometry,  for  here 
refined  and  exhaustive  definition  of  all  the  elements  was 
possible.  The  problems  involved  in  propositions  to  be 
proved  appeared  in  the  individual  experience  of  the 
geometrician,  but  this  experience  in  space  was  uniform 


SCIENTIFIC  METHOD 


191 


with  that  of  every  one  else  and  took  on  a  universal  not 
an  individual  form.  The  test  of  the  solution  was  given 
in  a  demonstration  which  holds  for  every  one  living 
in  the  same  Euclidian  space.  When  the  mathematician 
found  himself  carried  by  his  mathematical  technique 
beyond  the  assumptions  of  a  metaphysical  physics  he 
abandoned  the  field  of  physical  astronomy  and  confined 
himself  to  the  development  of  his  mathematical  ex- 
pressions. 

In  other  fields  Greek  science  analyzed  with  varying 
success  and  critical  skill  only  the  conceptions  found  in 
the  experience  of  their  time  and  world.  Nor  did  Greek 
thought  succeed  in  formulating  any  adequate  method 
by  which  the  ultimate  concepts  in  any  field  of  science 
were  to  be  determined.  It  is  in  Aristotle's  statement  of 
induction  and  the  process  of  definition  that  we  appre- 
ciate most  clearly  the  inadequacy  of  their  method.  This 
inadequacy  lies  fundamentally  in  Aristotle's  conception 
of  observation  which,  as  I  have  already  noted,  implies 
the  recognition  of  an  individual,  that  is,  an  object 
which  is  an  embodied  form  or  idea.  The  function  of 
knowledge  is  to  bring  out  this  essence.  The  mind  sees 
through  the  individuals  the  universal  nature.  The 
value  of  the  observation  lies,  then,  not  in  the  con- 
trolled perception  of  certain  data  as  observed  facts, 
but  in  the  insight  with  which  he  recognizes  the  nature 
of  the  object.  When  this  nature  has  been  seen  it  is 
to  be  analyzed  into  essential  characters  and  thus 
formulated  into  the  definition.  In  Aristotle's  method- 
ology there  is  no  procedure  by  which  the  mind  can 
deliberately  question  the  experience  of  the  community 


192 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


and  by  a  controlled  method  reconstruct  its  received 
world.  Thus  the  natural  sciences  were  as  really  fixed 
by  the  conceptions  of  the  community  as  were  the  exact 
sciences  by  the  conceptions  of  a  Euclidian  geometry 
and  the  mathematics  which  the  Greeks  formulated 
within  it.  The  individual  within  whose  peculiar  ex- 
perience arises  a  contradiction  to  the  prevailing  con- 
ceptions of  the  community  and  in  whose  creative 
intelligence  appears  the  new  hypothesis  which  makes 
possible  a  new  heaven  and  a  new  earth  could  utilize 
his  individual  experience  only  in  destructive  skepti- 
cism. Subjectivism  served  in  ancient  thought  to  in- 
validate knowledge  not  to  enlarge  it. 

Zeller  has  sketched  a  parallelism  between  the  ideal 
state  of  Plato  and  the  social  structure  of  the  medieval 
world.  The  philosopher-king  is  represented  by  the  Pope, 
below  him  answering  to  the  warrior  class  in  the  Platonic 
state  stands  the  warrior  class  of  the  Holy  Roman 
Empire,  who  in  theory  enforce  the  dictates  of  the 
Roman  curia,  while  at  the  bottom  in  both  communities 
stand  the  mass  of  the  people  bound  to  obedience  to  the 
powers  above.  There  is,  however,  one  profound  differ- 
ence between  the  two,  and  that  is  to  be  found  in  the 
relative  positions  of  the  ideal  worlds  that  dominate 
each.  Plato's  ideal  world  beyond  the  heavens  gives 
what  reality  it  has  to  this  through  the  participation 
by  the  world  of  becoming  in  the  ideas.  Opinion  dimly 
sensed  the  ideas  in  the  evanescent  objects  about  it,  and 
though  Plato's  memory  theory  of  knowledge  assumed 
that  the  ideas  had  been  seen  in  former  existence  and 
men  could  thus  recognize  the  copies  here,  the  ideal 


SCIENTIFIC  METHOD 


198 


world  was  not  within  the  mind  but  without.  In  a  real 
sense  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  was  within  men  in  the 
medieval  world,  as  was  the  Holy  Roman  Empire.  They 
were  ideal  communities  that  ought  to  exist  on  earth, 
and  it  was  due  to  the  depravity  of  men  that  they  did 
not  exist.  From  time  to  time  men  undertook  in  various 
upheavals  to  realize  in  some  part  these  spiritual  and 
political  ideals  which  they  carried  within  them.  And 
men  not  only  carried  within  them  the  ideas  of  a  New 
Jerusalem  in  which  the  interest  of  one  was  the  interest 
of  all  and  of  an  earthly  state  ordered  by  a  divine 
decree  to  fulfil  this  Christian  ideal,  but  the  determin- 
ing causes  of  the  present  condition  and  the  future 
realization  depended  also  upon  the  inner  attitudes  and 
experiences  of  the  individuals  themselves. 

Without   carrying   the   analogy   here   too    far,   this 
relation  between  the  experience  of  the  individual  and 
the  world  which  may  arise  through  the  realization  of 
his  ideas  is  the  basis  of  the  most  profound  distinction 
between  the  ancient  world  and  the  modern.     Before 
the  logic  of  this  attitude  could  appear  in  science  a  long 
period  of  intellectual  and  social  growth  was  necessary. 
The  most  essential  part  of  this  growth  was  the  slow 
but  steady  development  of  psychological  doctrine  which 
placed  the  objective  world  in  the  experience  of  the 
individual.     It  is  not  of  interest  here  to  bring  out  the 
modern  epistemological  problem  that  grew  out  of  this, 
or  to  present  this  in  the  world  of  Leibnitzian  monads 
that  had  no  windows  or  in  the  Berkeley  an  subjective 
idealism.    What  is  of  interest  is  to  point  out  that  this 
attitude  established  a  functional  relationship  between 


194i 


CREATIVE   INTELLIGENCE 


SCIENTIFIC  METHOD 


195 


even  the  subjective  experience  of  the  individual  and  the 
object  of  knowledge.  A  skepticism  based  upon  subjec- 
tivism might  thereafter  question  the  justification  of 
the  reference  of  experience  beyond  itself;  it  could  not 
question  knowledge  and  its  immediate  object. 

Kant  formalizes  the  relation  of  what  was  subjective 
and  what  was  objective  by  identifying  the  former  with 
the  sensuous  content  of  experience  and  the  latter  with 
the  application  of  the  forms  of  sensibility  and  under- 
standing to  this  content.  The  relationship  was  formal 
and  dead.  Kant  recognized  no  functional  relationship 
between  the  nature  of  the  Mannigfaltigkeit  of  sensuous 
experience  and  the  forms  into  which  it  was  poured.  The 
forms  remained  external  to  the  content,  but  the  rela- 
tionship was  one  which  existed  within  experience,  not 
without  it,  and  within  this  experience  could  be  found 
the  necessity  and  universality  which  had  been  located 
in  the  world  independent  of  experience.  The  melting 
of  these  fixed  Kantian  categories  came  with  the  spring 
floods  of  the  romantic  idealism  that  followed  Kant. 

The  starting-point  of  this  idealism  was  Kantian. 
Within  experience  lay  the  object  of  knowledge.  The 
Idealist's  principal  undertaking  was  to  overcome  the 
skepticism  that  attached  to  the  object  of  knowledge 
because  of  its  reference  to  what  lies  outside  itself.  If, 
as  Kant  had  undertaken  to  prove,  the  reality  which 
knowledge  implies  must  reach  beyond  experience,  then, 
on  the  Kantian  doctrine  that  knowledge  lies  within 
experience,  knowledge  itself  is  infected  with  skepticism. 
Kant's  practical  bridge  from  the  world  of  experience 
to  the  world  of  things-in-themselves,  which  he  walked 


by  faith  and  not  by  sight,  was  found  in  the  postulates 
of  the  conduct  of  the  self  as  a  moral  being,  as  a  per- 
sonality.   The  romantic  idealists  advance  by  the  same 
road,  though  as  romanticists  not  critical  philosophers, 
they  fashioned  the  world  of  reality,  that  transcends 
experience,  out  of  experience  itself,  by  centering  the 
self  in  the  absolute  self  and  conceiving  the  whole  in- 
finite universe  as  the  experience  of  the  absolute  self. 
The  interesting  phase  of  this  development  is  that  the 
form  which  experience  takes  in  becoming  objective  is 
found  in  the  nature  and  thought  of  the  individual,  and 
that  this  process  of  epistemological  experience  becomes 
thus  a  process  of  nature,  if  the  objective  is  the  natural. 
In  Kant's  terms  our  minds  give  laws  to  nature.     But 
this  nature  constantly  exhibits  its  dependence  upon 
underlying  noumena  that  must  therefore  transcend  the 
laws  given  by  the  understanding.    The  Romanticist  in- 
sists that  this  other  reality  must  be  the  same  stuff  as 
that  of  experience,  that  in  experience  arise  forms  which 
transcend  those  which  bound  the  experience  in  its  earlier 
phase.     If  in  experience  the  forms  of  the  objective 
world  are  themselves  involved,  the  process  of  knowledge 
sets  no  limits  to  itself,  which  it  may  not,  does  not,  by 
implication  transcend.     As  further  indication  of  the 
shift  by  which  thought  had  passed  into  possession  of 
the  world  of  things  in  themselves  stands  the  antinomy 
which  in  Kantian  experience  marks  the  limit  of  our 
knowledge  while  in  post-Kantian  idealism  it  becomes 
the  antithesis  that  leads  to  the  synthesis  upon  the 
higher  plane.    Contradiction  marks  the  phase  at  which 
the  spirit  becomes  creative,  not  simply  giving  an  empty 


196 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


formal  law  to  nature,  but  creating  the  concrete  uni- 
verse in  which  content  and  form  merge  in  true  ac- 
tuality. The  relation  of  the  sensuous  content  to  the 
conceptual  form  is  not  dead,  as  in  Kant's  doctrine.  It 
is  fused  as  perception  into  concept  and  carries  its 
immediacy  and  concreteness  of  detail  into  the  concrete 
universal  as  the  complete  organization  of  stimulation 
and  response  pass  into  the  flexible  habit.  And  yet 
in  the  Hegelian  logic,  the  movement  is  always  away 
from  the  perceptual  experience  toward  the  higher  realm 
of  the  Idee.  Thought  is  creative  in  the  movement,  but 
in  its  ultimate  reality  it  transcends  spatial  and  tem- 
poral experience,  the  experience  with  which  the  natural 
and  mathematical  sciences  deal.  Thought  is  not  a 
means  of  solving  the  problems  of  this  world  as  they 
arise,  but  a  great  process  of  realization  in  which  this 
world  is  forever  transcended.  Its  abstract  particu- 
larities of  sensuous  detail  belong  only  to  the  finite  expe- 
rience of  the  partial  self.  This  world  is,  therefore, 
always  incomplete  in  its  reality  and,  in  so  far,  always 
untrue.  Truth  and  full  reality  belong  not  to  the  field 
of  scientific  investigation. 

In  its  metaphysics  Romantic  Idealism,  though  it 
finds  a  place  for  scientific  discovery  and  reconstruction, 
leaves  these  disdainfully  behind,  as  incomplete  phases 
of  the  ultimate  process  of  reality,  as  infected  with  un- 
truth and  deceptive  unwarranted  claims.  The  world  is 
still  too  much  with  us.  We  recognize  here  three  strik- 
ing results  of  the  development  of  reflective  conscious- 
ness in  the  modern  world : — first,  it  is  assumed  that  the 
objective  world   of  knowledge   can   be   placed  within 


SCIENTIFIC  METHOD 


197 


the  experience  of  the  individual  without  losing  thereby 
its  nature  as  an  object,  that  all  characters  of  that 
object  can  be  presented  as  belonging  to  that  experi- 
ence, whether  adequately  or  not  is  another  question; 
and  second,  it  is  assumed  that  the  contradictions  in 
its  nature  which  are  associated  with  its  inclusion  in 
individual  experience,  its  references  beyond  itself  when 
so  included,  may  themselves  be  the  starting-point  of 
a  reconstruction  which  at  least  carries  that  object 
beyond  the  experience  within  which  these  contradic- 
tions arose;  and  third,  it  is  assumed  that  this  growth 
takes  place  in  a  world  of  reality  within  which  the 
incomplete  experience  of  the  individual  is  an  essential 
part  of  the  process,  in  which  it  is  not  a  mere  fiction, 
destroying  reality  by  its  representation,  but  is  a  grow- 
ing-point in  that  reality  itself. 

These  characters  of  philosophic  interpretation,  the 
inclusion  of  the  object  of  knowledge  in  the  individual 
experience  and  the  turning  of  the  conflicts  in  that  ex- 
perience into  the  occasion  for  the  creation  of  new 
objects  transcending  these  contradictions,  are  the 
characters  in  the  conscious  method,  of  modern  science, 
which  most  profoundly  distinguish  it  from  the  method 
of  ancient  science.  This,  of  course,  is  tantamount  to 
saying  that  they  are  those  which  mark  the  experimental 
method  in  science. 

That  phase  of  the  method  upon  which  I  have  touched 
already  has  been  its  occupation  with  the  so-called  data 
or  facts  as  distinguished  from  Aristotelian  individuals. 

Whenever  we  reduce  the  objects  of  scientific  investi- 
gation to  facts  and  undertake  to  record  them  as  such, 


198 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


they  become  events,  happenings,  whose  hard  factual 
character  lies  in  the  circumstance  that  they  have  taken 
place,  and  this  quite  independently  of  any  explanation 
of  their  taking  place.  When  they  are  explained  they 
have  ceased  to  be  facts  and  have  become  instances  of 
a  law,  that  is,  Aristotelian  individuals,  embodied 
theories,  and  their  actuality  as  events  is  lost  in  the 
necessity  of  their  occurrence  as  expressions  of  the  law ; 
with  this  change  their  particularity  as  events  or  hap- 
penings disappears.  They  are  but  the  specific  values 
of  the  equation  when  constants  are  substituted  for 
variables.  Before  the  equation  is  known  or  the  law 
discovered  they  have  no  such  ground  of  existence.  Up 
to  this  point  they  find  their  ground  for  existence  in 
their  mere  occurrence,  to  which  the  law  which  is  to 
explain  them  must  accommodate  itself. 

There  are  here  suggested  two  points  of  view  from 
which  these  facts  may  be  regarded.  Considered  with 
reference  to  a  uniformity  or  law  by  which  they  will 
be  ordered  and  explained  they  are  the  phenomena  with 
which  the  positivist  deals ;  as  existencies  to  be  identified 
and  localized  before  they  are  placed  within  such  a  uni- 
formity they  fall  within  the  domain  of  the  psychological 
philosopher  who  can  at  least  place  them  in  their  rela- 
tion to  the  other  events  in  the  experience  of  the  in- 
dividual who  observes  them.  Considered  as  having 
a  residual  meaning  apart  from  the  law  to  which  they 
have  become  exceptions,  they  can  become  the  subject- 
matter  of  the  rationalist.  It  is  important  that  we 
recognize  that  neither  the  positivist  nor  the  rationalist 
is  able  to  identify  the  nature  of  the  fact  or  datum 


;^i 


SCIENTIFIC  METHOD 


199 


to  which  they  refer.  I  refer  to  such  stubborn  facts  as 
those  of  the  sporadic  appearance  of  infectious  diseases 
before  the  germ  theory  of  the  disease  was  discovered. 
Here  was  a  fact  which  contradicted  the  doctrine  of  the 
spread  of  the  infection  by  contact.  It  appeared  not  as 
an  instance  of  a  law,  but  as  an  exception  to  a  law. 
As  such,  its  nature  is  found  in  its  having  happened 
at  a  given  place  and  time.  If  the  case  had  appeared 
in  the  midst  of  an  epidemic,  its  nature  as  a  case  of  the 
infectious  disease  would  have  been  cared  for  in  the 
accepted  doctrine,  and  for  its  acceptance  as  an  object 
of  knowledge  its  location  in  space  and  time  as  an  event 
would  not  have  been  required.  Its  geographical  and 
historical  traits  would  have  followed  from  the  theory 
of  the  infection,  as  we  identify  by  our  calculations  the 
happy  fulfilment  of  Thales'  prophecy.  The  happening 
of  an  instance  of  a  law  is  accounted  for  by  the  law. 
Its  happening  may  and  in  most  instances  does  escape 
observation,  while  as  an  exception  to  an  accepted  law 
it  captures  attention.  Its  nature  as  an  event  is,  then, 
found  in  its  appearance  in  the  experience  of  some  in- 
dividual, whose  observation  is  controlled  and  recorded 
as  his  experience.  Without  its  reference  to  this  in- 
dividual's experience  it  could  not  appear  as  a  fact 
for  further  scientific  consideration. 

Now  the  attitude  of  the  positivist  toward  this  fact 
is  that  induced  by  its  relation  to  the  law  which  is  suh- 
sequently  discovered.  It  has  then  fallen  into  place  in 
a  series,  and  his  doctrine  is  that  all  laws  are  but  uni- 
formities of  such  events.  He  treats  the  fact  when  it 
is  an  exception  to  law  as  an  instance  of  the  new  law 


200 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


SCIENTIFIC  METHOD 


201 


and  assumes  that  the  exception  to  the  old  law  and 
the    instance    of    the    new    are    identical.      And    this 
is  a  great  mistake, — the  mistake  made  also  by  the  neo- 
realist  when  he  assumes  that  the  object  of  knowledge 
is  the  same  within  and  without  the  mind,  that  nothing 
happens  to  what  is  to  be  known  when  it  by  chance 
strays  into  the  realm  of  conscious  cognition.     Any  as 
yet  unexplained  exception  to  an  old  theory  can  happen 
only  in  the  experience  of  an  individual,  and  that  which 
has  its  existence  as  an  event  in  some  one's  biography 
is  a  different  thing  from  the  future  instance  which  is 
not  beholden  to  any  one  for  its  existence.     Yet  there 
are,  as  I  indicated  earlier,  meanings  in  this  exceptional 
event  which,  at  least  for  the  time,  are  unaffected  by 
the  exceptional  character  of  the  occurrence.    For  ex- 
ample, certain  clinical  symptoms  by  which  an  infectious 
disease  is  identified  have  remained  unchanged  in  diag- 
nosis since  the  days  of  Hippocrates.    These  characters 
remain  as  characters  of  the  instance  of  the  law  of  germ- 
origin  when  this  law  has  been  discovered.     This  may 
lead  us  to  say  that  the  exception  which  appears  for 
the  time  being  as  a  unique  incident  in  a  biography 
is  identical  with  the  instance  of  a  germ-induced  disease. 
Indeed,  we  are  likely  to  go  further  and,  in  the  assurance 
of  the  new  doctrine,  state  that  former  exceptions  can 
(or  with  adequate  acquaintance  with  the  facts  could) 
be  proved  to  be  necessarily  an  instance  of  a  disease 
carried  by  a  germ.     The  positivist  is  therefore  confi- 
dent that  the  field  of  scientific  knowledge  is  made  up 
of  events  which  are  instances  of  uniform  series,  al- 
though  under   conditions    of   inadequate   information 


some  of  them  appear  as  exceptions  to  the  statements 
of  uniformities,  in  truth  the  latter  being  no  uniformities 
at  all. 

That  this  is  not  a  true  statement  of  the  nature  of 
the  exception  and  of  the  instance,  it  is  not  difficult  to 
show  if  we  are  willing  to  accept  the  accounts  which 
the  scientists  themselves  give  of  their  own  observation, 
the  changing  forms  which  the  hypothesis  assumes  dur- 
ing the  effort  to  reach  a  solution  and  the  ultimate 
reconstruction  which  attends  the  final  tested  solution. 
Wherever  we  are  fortunate  enough,  as  in  the  biogra- 
phies of  men  such  as  Darwin  and  Pasteur,  to  follow 
a  number  of  the  steps  by  which  they  recognized  prob- 
lems  and  worked   out  tenable  hypotheses   for  their 
solution,  we  find  that  the  direction  which  is  given  to 
attention  in  the  early  stage  of  scientific  investigation 
is  toward  conflicts  between  current  theories  and  ob- 
served phenomena,  and  that  since  the  form  which  these 
observations  take  is  determined  by  the  opposition,  it  is 
determined  by  a  statement  which  itself  is  later  aban- 
doned.    We  find  that  the  scope  and  character  of  the 
observations  change  at  once  when  the  investigator  sets 
about  gathering  as  much  of  the  material  as  he  can 
secure,  and  changes  constantly  as  he  formulates  tenta- 
tive hypotheses  for  the  solution  of  the  problem,  which, 
moreover,  generally  changes  its  form  during  the  inves- 
tigation.    I  am  aware  that  this  change  in  the  form 
of  the  data  will  be  brushed  aside  by  many  as  belonging 
only  to  the  attitude  of  mind  of  the  investigator,  while 
it  is  assumed  that  the  "facts"  themselves,  however 
selected  and  organized  in  his  observation  and  thought, 


202 


CREATIVE   INTELLIGENCE 


SCIENTIFIC  METHOD 


203 


remain  identical  in  their  nature  throughout.  Indeed, 
the  scientist  himself  carries  with  him  in  the  whole  pro- 
cedure the  confidence  that  the  fact-structure  of  reality 
is  unchanged,  however  varied  are  the  forms  of  the  ob- 
servations which  refer  to  the  same  entities.* 

The  analysis  of  the  fact-structure  of  reality  shows 
in  the  first  place  that  the  scientist  undertakes  to  form 
such  an  hypothesis  that  all  the  data  of  observation 
will  find  their  place  in  the  objective  world,  and  in  the 
second  place  to  bring  them  into  such  a  structure  that 
future  experience  will  lead  to  anticipated  results.  He 
does  not  undertake  to  preserve  facts  in  the  form  in 
which  they  existed  in  experience  before  the  problem 
arose  nor  to  construct  a  world  independent  of  experi- 
ence or  that  will  not  be  subject  itself  to  future  recon- 
structions in  experience.    He  merely  insists  that  future 

•  An  analysis  which  has  been  many  times  carried  out  has  made 
it  dear  that  scientific  data  never  do  more  than  approximate  the 
laws  and  entities  upon  which  our  science  rests.  It  is  equally 
evident  that  the  forms  of  these  laws  and  entities  themselves  shift 
in  the  reconstructions  of  incessant  research,  or  where  they  seem 
most  secure  could  consistently  be  changed,  or  at  least  could  be 
fundamentally  different  were  our  psychological  structure  or  even 
our  conventions  of  thought  diiferent.  I  need  only  refer  to  the 
Science  et  Hypothise  of  Poincar^  and  the  Problemt  of  Science 
of  Enriques.  The  positivist  who  undertakes  to  carry  the  struc- 
ture of  the  world  back  to  the  data  of  observation,  and  the 
uniformities  appearing  in  the  accepted  hypotheses  of  growing 
sciences  cannot  maintain  that  we  ever  succeed  in  isolating  data 
which  must  remain  the  same  in  the  kaleidoscope  of  our  research 
science;  nor  are  we  better  served  if  we  retreat  to  the  ultimate 
elements  of  points  and  instants  which  our  pure  mathematics 
assumes  and  implicitly  defines,  and  in  connection  with  which  it  has 
worked  out  the  modern  theory  of  the  number  and  continuous 
series,  its  statements  of  continuity  and  infinity. 


reconstructions  will  take  into  account  the  old  in  re- 
adjusting it  to  the  new.    In  such  a  process  it  is  evident 
that  the  change  of  the  form  in  the  data  is  not  due  to 
a  subjective  attitude  of  the  investigator  which  can  be 
abstracted   from  the  facts.     When  Darwin,  for  in- 
stance, found  that  the  marl  dressings  which  farmers 
spread  over  their  soil  did  not  sink  through  the  soil 
by  the  force  of  gravity  as  was  supposed,  but  that  the 
earthworm  castings  were  thrown  up  above  these  dress- 
ings at  nearly  the  same  rate  at  which  they  disappeared, 
he  did  not  correct  a  subjective  attitude  of  mind.    He 
created  in  experience  a  humus  which  took  the  place 
of  a  former  soil,  and  justified  itself  by  fitting  it  into 
the  whole  process  of  disintegration  of  the  earth's  sur- 
face.   It  would  be  impossible  to  separate  in  the  earlier 
experiences  certain  facts  and  certain  attitudes  of  mind 
entertained  by  men  with  reference  to  these  facts.    Cer- 
tain objects  have  replaced  other  objects.  It  is  only  after 
the  process  of  analysis,  which  arose  out  of  the  conflict- 
ing observations,  has  broken  up  the  old  object  that  what 
was  a  part  of  the  object,  heavier-things-pushing-their 
way-through-soil-of-lighter-texture,  can  become  a  mere 
idea.     Earlier  it  was   an  object.     Until   it  could  be 
tested  the  earthworm  as  the  cause  of  the  disappearance 
the  dressings  was  also  Darwin's  idea.    It  became  fact. 
For  science  at  least  it  is  quite  impossible  to  distinguish 
between  what  in  an  object  must  be  fact  and  what  may 
be  idea.     The  distinction  when  it  is  made  is  dependent 
upon  the  form  of  the  problem  and  is  functional  to  its 
solution,  not  metaphysical.     So  little  can  a  consistent 
line  of  cleavage  between  facts  and  ideas  be  indicated, 


204 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


that  we  can  never  tell  where  in  our  world  of  observation 
the  problem  of  science  will  arise,  or  what  will  be  re- 
garded as  structure  of  reality  or  what  erroneous 
idea. 

There  is  a  strong  temptation  to  lodge  these  supposi- 
titious fact-structures  in  a  world  of  conceptual  objects, 
molecules,  atoms,  electrons,  and  the  like.  For  these  at 
least  lie  beyond  the  range  of  perception  by  their  very 
definition.  They  seem  to  be  in  a  realm  of  things-in- 
themselves.  Yet  they  also  are  found  now  in  the  field 
of  fact  and  now  in  that  of  ideas.  Furthermore,  a  study 
of  their  structure  as  they  exist  in  the  world  of  con- 
structive science  shows  that  their  infra-sensible  charac- 
ter is  due  simply  to  the  nature  of  our  sense-processes, 
not  to  a  different  metaphysical  nature.  They  occupy 
space,  have  measurable  dimensions,  mass,  and  are  sub- 
ject to  the  same  laws  of  motion  as  are  sensible  objects. 
We  even  bring  them  indirectly  into  the  field  of  vision 
and  photograph  their  paths  of  motion. 

The  ultimate  elements  referred  to  above  provide  a 
consistent  symbolism  for  the  finding  and  formulating  of 
applied  mathematical  sciences,  within  which  lies  the  whole 
field  of  physics,  including  Euclidian  geometry  as  well. 
However,  they  have  succeeded  in  providing  nothing 
more  than  a  language  and  logic  pruned  of  the  obstinate 
contradictions,  inaccuracies,  and  unanalyzed  sensuous 
stuif  of  earlier  mathematical  science.  Such  a  rational- 
istic doctrine  can  never  present  in  an  unchanged  form 
the  objects  with  which  natural  science  deals  in  any  of 
the  stages  of  its  investigation.  It  can  deal  only  v'ith 
ultimate   elements   and  forms   of  propositions.     It  is 


SCIENTIFIC  METHOD 


205 


compelled    to    fall    back    on    a    theory    of    analysis 
which  reaches  ultimate  elements  and  an  assumption  of 
inference  as  an  indefinable.    Such  an  analysis  is  actually 
impossible  either  in  the  field  of  the  conceptual  objects 
into  which  physical  science  reduces  physical  objects,  or 
in  the  field  of  sensuous  experience.     Atoms  can  be  re- 
duced into  positive  and  negative  electrical  elements  and 
these  may,  perhaps  do,  imply  a  structure  of  ether  that 
again  invites  further  analysis  and  so  on  ad  infinitum. 
None  of  the  hypothetical  constructs  carry  with  them- 
selves the  character  of  being  ultimate  elements  unless 
they  are  purely  metaphysical.     If  they  are  fashioned 
to  meet  the  actual  problems  of  scientific  research  they 
will  admit  of  possible  further  analysis,  because  they 
must  be  located  and  defined  in  the  continuity  of  space 
and  time.     They  cannot  he  the  points  and  instants  of 
modern  mathematical  theory.    Nor  can  we  reach  ulti- 
mate  elements   in    sensuous   experience,   for   this  lies 
also  within  a  continuum.     Furthermore,  our  scientific 
analyses  are  dependent  upon  the  form  that  our  objects 
assume.     There  is  no  general  analysis  which  research 
in  science  has  ever  used.     The  assumption  that  psy- 
chology   provides   us   with    an   analysis    of   experience 
which  can  be  carried  to  ultimate  elements  or  facts,  and 
which  thereby  provides  the  elements  out  of  which  the 
objects  of  our  physical  world  must  be  constructed, 
denies  to  psychology  its  rights  as  a  natural  science  of 
which  it  is  so  jealous,  turning  it  into  a  Berkeley  an 

metaphysics. 

This  most  modern  form  of  rationalism  being  unable 
to  find  ultimate  elements  in  the  field  of  actual  science 


/ 


206 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


IS  compelled  to  take  what  it  can  find  there.  Now  the 
results  of  the  analysis  of  the  classical  English  psycho- 
logical school  give  the  impression  of  being  what  Mr. 
Russell  calls  "  hard  facts,"  i.e.,  facts  which  cannot  be 
broken  up  into  others.  They  seem  to  be  the  data  of 
experience.  Moreover,  the  term  hard  is  not  so  uncom- 
promising as  is  the  term  element.  A  fact  can  be  more 
or  less  hard,  while  an  ultimate  element  cannot  be  more 
or  less   ultimate.     Furthermore,  the  entirely  formal 

« 

character  of  the  logic  enables  it  to  deal  with  equal 
facility  with  any  content.  One  can  operate  with  the 
more  or  less  hard  sense-data,  putting  them  in  to  satisfy 
the  seeming  variables  of  the  propositions,  and  reach 
conclusions  which  are  formally  correct.  There  is  no 
necessity  for  scrutinizing  the  data  under  these  circum- 
stances, if  one  can  only  assume  that  the  data  are  those 
which  science  is  actually  using.  The  difficulty  is  that 
no  scientist  ever  analyzed  his  objects  into  such  sense- 
data.  They  exist  only  in  philosophical  text-books. 
Even  the  psychologists  recognize  that  these  sensations 
are  abstractions  which  are  not  the  elements  out  of  which 
objects  of  sense  are  constructed.  They  are  abstrac- 
tions made  from  those  objects  whose  ground  for  isola- 
tion is  found  in  the  peculiar  problems  of  experimental 
psychology,  such  as  those  of  color  or  tone  perception. 
It  would  be  impossible  to  make  anything  in  terms  of 
Berkeleyan  sense-data  and  of  symbolic  logic  out  of  any 
scientific  discovery.  Research  defines  its  problem  by 
isolating  certain  facts  which  appear  for  the  time  being 
not  as  the  sense-data  of  a  solipsistic  mind,  but  as  expe- 
riences of  an  individual  in  a  highly  organized  society, 


SCIENTIFIC  METHOD 


207 


facts  which,  because  they  are  in  conflict  with  accepted 
doctrines,    must    be   described    so    that   they    can    be 
experienced   by    others    under   like    conditions.      The 
ground  for  the  analysis  which  leads  to  such  facts  is 
found  in  the  conflict  between  the  accepted  theory  and 
the  experience  of  the  individual  scientist.    The  analysis 
is  strictly  ad  hoc.    As  far  as  possible  the  exception  is 
stated  in  terms  of  accepted  meanings.    Only  where  the 
meaning  is  in  contradiction  with  the  experience  does 
the  fact  appear  as  the  happening  to  an  individual  and 
become  a  paragraph  out  of  his  biography.    But  as  such 
an  event,  whose  existence  for  science  depends  upon  the 
acceptance  of  the  description  of  him  to  whom  it  has 
happened,  it  must  have  all  the  setting  of  circumstantial 
evidence.    Part  of  this  circumstantial  evidence  is  found 
in  so-called  scientific  control,  that  is,  the  evidence  that 
conditions   were   such   that  similar   experiences   could 
happen  to  others  and  could  be  described  as  they  are 
described  in  the  account  given.     Other  parts  of  this 
evidence  which  we  call  corroborative  are  found  in  the 
statements    of  others   which   bear  out   details   of   this 
peculiar   event,   though   it  is   important  to  note   that 
these  details  have  to  be  wrenched  from  their  settings 
to  give  this  corroborative  value.     To  be  most  conclu- 
sive  they   must   have   no   intentional   connection   with 
the    experience    of    the    scientist.      In    other    words, 
those  individuals  who  corroborate  the  facts  are  made, 
in  spite  of  themselves,  experiencers  of  the  same  facts. 
The  perfection  of  this  evidence  is  attained  when  the 
fact  can  happen  to  others   and  the  observer  simply 
details  the  conditions  under  which  he  made  the  obser- 


208 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


vation,  which  can  be  then  so  perfectly  reproduced  that 
others  may  repeat  the  exceptional  experience. 

This  process  is  not  an  analysis  of  a  known  world 
into  ultimate  elements  and  their  relations.  Such  an 
analysis  never  isolates  this  particular  exception  which 
constitutes  the  scientific  problems  as  an  individual  ex- 
perience. The  extent  to  which  the  analysis  is  carried 
depends  upon  the  exigencies  of  the  problem.  It  is  the 
indefinite  variety  of  the  problems  which  accounts  for 
the  indefinite  variety  of  the  facts.  What  constitutes 
them  facts  in  the  sense  in  which  we  are  using  the 
term  is  their  exceptional  nature;  formally  they  appear 
as  particular  judgments,  being  denials  of  universal 
judgments,  whether  positive  or  negative.  This  excep- 
tional nature  robs  the  events  of  a  reality  which  would 
have  belonged  to  them  as  instances  of  a  universal  law. 
It  leaves  them,  however,  with  the  rest  of  their  meaning. 
But  the  value  which  they  have  lost  is  just  that  which 
was  essential  to  give  them  their  place  in  the  world  as 
it  has  existed  for  thought.  Banished  from  that  uni- 
versally valid  structure,  their  ground  for  existence  is 
found  in  the  experience  of  the  puzzled  observer.  Such 
an  observation  was  that  of  the  moons  of  Jupiter  made 
possible  by  the  primitive  telescope  of  Galileo.  For 
those  who  lived  in  a  Ptolemaic  cosmos,  these  could  have 
existence  only  as  observations  of  individuals.  As  moons 
they  had  distinct  meaning,  circling  Jupiter  as  our 
moon  circles  the  earth,  but  being  in  contradiction  with 
the  Ptolemaic  order  they  could  depend  for  their  exist- 
ence only  on  the  evidence  of  the  senses,  until  a  Coper- 
nican  order  could  give  them  a  local  habitation  and  a 


SCIENTIFIC  METHOD 


209 


name.  Then  they  were  observed  not  as  the  experiences 
of  individuals  but  as  instances  of  planetary  order  in 
a  heliocentric  system.  It  would  be  palpably  absurd  to 
refer  to  them  as  mere  sense-data,  mere  sensations.  They 
are  for  the  time  being  inexplicable  experiences  of  cer- 
tain individuals.  They  are  inexplicable  because  they 
have  a  meaning  which  is  at  variance  with  the  structure 
of  the  whole  world  to  which  they  belong.  They  are  the 
phenomena  termed  accidental  by  Aristotle  and  rejected 
as  full  realities  by  him,  but  which  have  become,  in  the 
habitat  of  individual  experience,  the  headstone  of  the 
structure  of  modern  research  of  science. 

A   rationalism  which   relegates   implication   to   the 
indefinables    cannot    present    the    process    of    modern 
science.     Implication  is  exa  .tly  that  process  by  which 
these  events  pass  from  their  individual  existence  into 
that  of  universal  reality,  and  the  scientist  is  at  pains 
to  define  it  as  the  experimental  method.    It  is  true  that 
a  proposition  implies  implication.    But  the  proposition 
is  the  statement  of  the  result  of  the  process  by  which 
an  object  has  arisen  for  knowledge  and  merely  indicates 
the  structure  of  the  object.     In  discovery,  invention, 
and  research  the  escape  from  the  exceptional,  from  the 
data  of  early  stages  of  observation,  is  by  way  of  an 
hypothesis ;  and  every  hypothesis  so  far  as  it  is  tenable 
and  workable  in  its  form  is  universal.     No  one  would 
waste  his  time  with  a  hypothesis  which  confessedly  was 
not  applicable  to  all  instances  of  the  problem.     An 
hjrpothesis  may  be  again  and  again  abandoned,  it  may 
prove  to  be  faulty  and  contradictory,  but  in  so  far  as 
it  is  an  instrument  of  research  it  is  assumed  to  be 


210 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


universal  and  to  perfect  a  system  which  has  broken 
down  at  the  point  indicated  by  the  problem.  Impli- 
cation and  more  elaborated  instances  flow  from  the 
structure  of  this  hypothesis.  The  classical  illustra- 
tion which  stands  at  the  door  of  modern  experimental 
science  is  the  hypothesis  which  Galileo  formed  of  the 
rate  of  the  velocity  of  a  falling  body.  He  conceived 
that  this  was  in  proportion  to  the  time  elapsed  during 
the  fall  and  then  elaborated  the  consequences  of  this 
hypothesis  by  working  it  into  the  accepted  mathemati- 
cal doctrines  of  the  physical  world,  until  it  led  to  an 
anticipated  result  which  would  be  actually  secured  and 
which  would  be  so  characteristic  an  instance  of  a  fall- 
ing body  that  it  would  answer  to  every  other  instance 
as  he  had  defined  them.  In  this  fashion  he  defined  his 
inference  as  the  anticipation  of  a  result  because  this 
result  was  a  part  of  the  world  as  he  presented  it 
amended  by  his  hypothesis.  It  is  true  that  back  of  the 
specific  implication  of  this  result  lay  a  mass  of  other 
implications,  many  not  even  presented  specifically  in 
thought  and  many  others  presented  by  symbols  which 
generalized  innumerable  instances.  These  implications 
are  for  the  scientist  more  or  less  implicit  meanings,  but 
they  are  meanings  each  of  which  may  be  brought  into 
question  and  tested  in  the  same  fashion  if  it  should  be- 
come an  actual  problem.  Many  of  them  which  would 
not  have  occurred  to  Galileo  as  possible  problems  have 
been  questioned  since  his  day.  What  has  remained  after 
this  period  of  determined  questioning  of  the  founda- 
tions of  mathematics  and  the  structure  of  the  world 
of  physical  science  is  a  method  of  agreement  with  one- 


SCIENTIFIC  METHOD 


211 


self  and  others,  in  (a)  the  identification  of  the  object 
of  thought,  in  (b)  the  accepted  values  of  assent  and 
denial  called  truth  and  falsehood,  and  in  (c)  referring 
to  meaning,  in  its  relation  to  what  is  meant.  In  any 
case  the  achievement  of  symbolic  logic,  with  its  inde- 
finables  and  axioms  has  been  to  reduce  this  logic  to 
a  statement  of  the  most  generalized  form  of  possible 
consistent  thought  intercourse,  with  entire  abstraction 
from  the  content  of  the  object  to  which  it  refers. 
If,  however,  we  abstract  from  its  value  in  giving 
a  consistent  theory  of  number,  continuity,  and  in- 
finity, this  complete  abstraction  from  the  content  has 
carried  the  conditions  of  thinking  in  agreement  with 
self  and  others  so  far  away  from  the  actual  problem 
of  science  that  symbolic  logic  has  never  been  used  as 
a  research  method.  It  has  indeed  emphasized  the  fact 
that  thinking  deals  with  problems  which  have  reference 
to  uses  to  which  it  can  be  put,  not  to  a  metaphysical 
world  lying  beyond  experience.  Symbolic  logic  has  to 
do  with  the  world  of  discourse,  not  with  the  world  of 
things. 

What  Russell  pushes  to  one  side  as  a  happy  guess 
is  the  actual  process  of  implication  by  which,  for  ex- 
ample, the  minute  form  in  the  diseased  human  system  is 
identified  with  unicellular  life  and  the  history  of  the 
disease  with  the  life  history  of  this  form.  This  iden- 
tification implies  reclassification  of  these  forms  and  a 
treatment  of  the  disease  that  answers  to  their  life  his- 
tory. Having  made  this  identification  we  anticipate  the 
result  of  this  treatment,  calling  it  an  inference. 

Implication  belongs  to  the  reconstruction  of  the  ob- 


S12 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


ject.  As  long  as  no  question  has  arisen,  the  object 
is  what  it  means  or  means  what  it  is.  It  does  not 
imply  any  feature  of  itself.  When  through  conflict 
with  the  experience  of  the  individual  some  feature  of 
the  object  is  divorced  from  some  meaning  the  relation- 
ship between  these  becomes  a  false  implication.  When 
a  hypothetically  reconstructed  object  finds  us  antici- 
pating a  result  which  accords  with  the  nature  of  such 
objects  we  assert  an  implication  of  this  meaning.  To 
carry  this  relation  of  implication  back  into  objects 
which  are  subject  to  no  criticism  or  question  would  of 
course  resolve  the  world  into  elements  connected  by 
external  relations,  with  the  added  consequence  that 
these  elements  can  have  no  content,  since  every  con- 
tent in  the  face  of  such  an  analysis  must  be  subject 
to  further  analysis.  We  reach  inevitably  symbols  such 
as  X,  Y,  and  Z,  which  can  symbolize  nothing.  Theo- 
retically we  can  assume  an  implication  between  any 
elements  of  an  object,  but  in  this  abstract  assumption 
the  symbolic  logician  overlooks  the  fact  that  he  is  also 
assuming  some  content  which  is  not  analyzed  and  which 
is  the  ground  of  the  implication.  In  other  words  this 
logician  confuses  the  scientific  attitude  of  being  ready 
to  question  anything  with  an  attitude  of  being  willing 
to  question  everything  at  once.  It  is  only  in  an  un- 
questioned objective  world  that  the  exceptional  in- 
stance appears  and  it  is  only  in  such  a  world  that  an 
experimental  science  tests  the  implications  of  the  hypo- 
thetically reconstructed  object. 

The  guess  is  happy  because  it  carries  with  it  the  con- 
sequences which  follow  from  its  fitting  into  the  world, 


SCIENTIFIC  METHOD 


213 


and  the  guess,  in  other  words  the  hypothesis,  takes  on 
this  happy  form  solely  because  of  the  material  recon- 
struction which  by  its  nature  removes  the  unhappy 
contradiction  and  promises  the  successful  carrying  out 
of  the  conflicting  attitudes  in  the  new  objective  world. 
There  is  no  such  thing  as  formal  implication. 

Where  no  reconstruction  of  the  world  is  involved  in 
our  identification  of  objects  that  belong  to  it  and 
where,  therefore,  no  readjustment  of  conduct  is  de- 
manded, such  a  logic  symbolizes  what  takes  place  in 
our  direct  recognition  of  objects  and  our  response 
to  them.  Then  "  X  is  a  man  implies  X  is  mortal  for 
all  values  of  X"  exactly  symbolizes  the  attitude  toward 
a  man  subject  to  a  disease  supposedly  mortal.  But 
it  fails  to  symbolize  the  biological  research  which  start- 
ing with  inexplicable  sporadic  cases  of  an  infectious 
disease  carries  over  from  the  study  of  the  life  history 
of  infusoria  a  hypothetical  reconstruction  of  the  his- 
tory of  disease  and  then  acts  upon  the  result  of  this 
assumption.  Research-science  presents  a  world  whose 
form  is  always  universal,  but  this  universal  form  is 
neither  a  metaphysical  assumption  nor  a  fixed  form  of 
the  understanding.  While  the  scientist  may  as  a  meta- 
physician assume  the  existence  of  realities  which  lie 
beyond  a  possible  experience,  or  be  a  Kantian  or  Neo- 
Kantian,  neither  of  these  attitudes  is  necessary  for  his 
research.  He  may  be  a  positivist — a  disciple  of  Hume 
or  of  John  Stuart  Mill.  He  may  be  a  pluralist  who 
conceives,  with  William  James,  that  the  order  which 
we  detect  in  parts  of  the  universe  is  possibly  one  that 
is  rising  out  of  the  chaos  and  which  may  never  be  as 


214 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


universal  as  our  hypothesis  demands.  None  of  these 
attitudes  has  any  bearing  upon  his  scientific  method. 
This  simplifies  his  thinking,  enables  him  to  identify  the 
object  in  which  he  is  interested  wherever  he  finds  it,  and 
to  abstract  in  the  world  as  he  conceives  it  those  features 
which  carry  with  them  the  occurrence  he  is  endeavoring 
to  place.  Especially  it  enables  him  to  make  his  thought 
a  part  of  the  socially  accepted  and  socially  organized 
science  to  which  his  thought  belongs.  He  is  far  too 
modest  to  demand  that  the  world  be  as  his  inference 
demands. 

He  asks  that  his  view  of  the  world  be  cogent  and 
convincing  to  all  those  whose  thinking  has  made  his 
own  possible,  and  be  an  acceptable  premise  for  the 
conduct  of  that  society  to  which  he  belongs.  The 
h3rpothesis  has  no  universal  and  necessary  characters 
except  those  that  belong  to  the  thought  which  preserves 
the  same  meanings  to  the  same  objects,  the  same  rela- 
tions between  the  same  relata,  the  same  attributes  of 
assent  and  dissent  under  the  same  conditions,  the  same 
results  of  the  same  combinations  of  the  same  things. 
For  scientific  research  the  meanings,  the  relations  with 
the  relata,  the  assent  and  dissent,  the  combinations 
and  the  things  combined  are  all  in  the  world  of  experi- 
ence. Thinking  in  its  abstractions  and  identifications 
and  reconstructions  undertakes  to  preserve  the  values 
that  it  finds,  and  the  necessity  of  its  thinking  lies  in  its 
ability  to  so  identify,  preserve,  and  combine  what  it 
has  isolated  that  the  thought  structure  will  have  an 
identical  import  under  like  conditions  for  the  thinker 
with  all  other  thinkers  to  whom  these  instruments  of 


SCIENTIFIC  METHOD 


215 


research  conduct  are  addressed.  Whatever  conclusions 
the  scientist  draws  as  necessary  and  universal  results 
from  his  hypothesis  for  a  world  independent  of  his 
thought  are  due,  not  to  the  cogency  of  his  logic,  but 
to  other  considerations.  For  he  knows  if  he  reflects 
that  another  problem  may  arise  which  will  in  its  solu- 
tion change  the  face  of  the  world  built  upon  the  present 
hypothesis.  He  will  defend  the  inexorableness  of  his 
reasoning,  but  the  premises  may  change.  Even  the 
contents  of  tridimensional  space  and  sensuous  time  are 
not  essential  to  the  cogency  of  that  reasoning  nor  can 
the  unbroken  web  of  the  argument  assure  the  content 
of  the  world  as  invariable.  His  universals,  when  ap- 
plied to  nature,  are  all  hypothetical  universals;  hence 
the  import  of  experiment  as  the  test  of  an  hypothesis. 
Experience  does  not  rule  out  the  possible  cropping  up  of 
a  new  problem  which  may  shift  the  values  attained. 
Experience  simply  reveals  that  the  new  hypothesis  fits 
into  the  meanings  of  the  world  which  are  not  shaken; 
it  shows  that,  with  the  reconstruction  which  the  hy- 
pothesis offers,  it  is  possible  for  scientific  conduct  to 
proceed. 

But  if  the  universal  character  of  the  hypothesis  and 
the  tested  theory  belong  to  the  instrumental  character 
of  thought  in  so  reconstructing  a  world  that  has  proved 
to  be  imperfect,  and  inadequate  to  conduct,  the  stuff 
of  the  world  and  of  the  new  hypothesis  are  the  same. 
At  least  this  is  true  for  the  scientist  who  has  no  in- 
terest in  an  epistemological  problem  that  does  not 
affect  his  scientific  undertakings  in  one  way  nor  an- 
other. I  have  already  pointed  out  that  from  the  stand- 


216 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


point  of  logical  and  psychological  analysis  the  things 
with  which  science  deals  can  be  neither  ultimate  ele- 
ments nor  sense-data ;  but  that  they  must  be  phases  and 
characters  and  parts  of  things  in  some  whole,  parts 
which  can  only  be  isolated  because  of  the  conflict  be- 
tween an  accepted  meaning  and  some  experience.  I  have 
pointed  out  that  an  analysis  is  guided  by  the  practical 
demands  of  a  solution  of  this  conflict;  that  even  that 
which  is  individual  in  its  most  unique  sense  in  the  con- 
flict and  in  attempts  at  its  solution  does  not  enter  into 
the  field  of  psychology — which  has  its  own  problems 
peculiar  to  its  science.  Certain  psychological  problems 
belong  to  the  problems  of  other  sciences,  as,  for  exam- 
ple, that  of  the  personal  equation  belongs  to  astronomy 
or  that  of  color  vision  to  the  theory  of  light.  But  they 
bulk  small  in  these  sciences.  It  cannot  be  successfully 
maintained  that  a  scientific  observation  of  the  most 
unique  sort,  one  which  is  accepted  for  the  time  being 
simply  as  a  happening  in  this  or  that  scientist's  experi- 
ence, is  as  such  a  psychological  datum,  for  the  data  in 
psychological  text-books  have  reference  to  psychologi- 
cal problems.  Psychology  deals  with  the  consciousness 
of  the  individual  in  its  dependence  upon  the  physio- 
logical organism  and  upon  those  contents  which  detach 
themselves  from  the  objects  outside  the  individual  and 
which  are  identified  with  his  inner  experience.  It  deals 
with  the  laws  and  processes  and  structures  of  this  con- 
sciousness in  all  its  experiences,  not  with  exceptional 
experiences.  It  is  necessary  to  emphasize  again  that 
for  science  these  particular  experiences  arise  within  a 
world  which  is  in  its  logical  structure  organized  and 


SCIENTIFIC  METHOD 


21T 


universal.  They  arise  only  through  the  conflict  of  the 
individual's  experience  with  such  an  accepted  structure. 
For  science  individual  experience  presupposes  the  or- 
ganized structure;  hence  it  cannot  provide  the  material 
out  of  which  the  structure  is  built  up.  This  is  the  error 
of  both  the  positivist  and  of  the  psychological  philoso- 
pher, if  scientific  procedure  gives  us  in  any  sense  a 
picture  of  the  situation. 

A  sharp  contrast  appears  between  the  accepted  hy- 
pothesis with  its  universal  form  and  the  experiences 
which  invalidate  the  earlier  theory.  The  reality  of 
these  experiences  lies  in  their  happening.  They  were 
unpredictable.  They  are  not  instances  of  a  law.  The 
later  theory,  the  one  which  explains  these  occurrences, 
changes  their  character  and  status,  making  them  nec- 
essary results  of  the  world  as  that  is  conceived  under 
this  new  doctrine.  This  new  standpoint  carries  with  it 
a  backward  view,  which  explains  the  erroneous  doctrine, 
and  accounts  for  the  observations  which  invalidated  it. 
Every  new  theory  must  take  up  into  itself  earlier 
dectrines  and  rationalize  the  earlier  exceptions. 
A  generalization  of  this  attitude  places  the  scientist 
in  the  position  of  anticipating  later  reconstructions. 
He  then  must  conceive  of  his  world  as  subject  to 
continuous  reconstructions.  A  familiar  interpreta- 
tion of  his  attitude  is  that  the  hypothesis  is  thus 
approaching  nearer  and  nearer  toward  a  reality  which 
would  never  change  if  it  could  be  attained,  or,  from  the 
standpoint  of  the  Hegelian  toward  a  goal  at  infinity. 
The  Hegelian  also  undertakes  to  make  this  continuous 
process  of  reconstruction  an  organic  phase  in  reality 


218 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


SCIENTIFIC  METHOD 


219 


and  to  identify  with  nature  the  process  of  finding  ex- 
ceptions and  of  correcting  them.  The  fundamental 
difference  between  this  position  and  that  of  the  scientist 
who  looks  before  and  after  is  that  the  Hegelian  under- 
takes to  make  the  exception  in  its  exceptional  character 
a  part  of  the  reality  which  transcends  it,  while  the 
scientist  usually  relegates  the  exception  to  the  experi- 
ence of  individuals  who  were  simply  caught  in  an  error 
which  later  investigation  removes. 

The  error  remains  as  an  historical  incident  explica- 
ble perhaps  as  a  result  of  the  conditions  under  which  it 
occurred,  but  in  so  far  as  it  was  an  error,  not  a  part 
of  reality.  It  is  customary  to  speak  of  it  as  subjective, 
though  this  implies  that  we  are  putting  the  man  who 
was  unwittingly  in  error  into  the  position  of  the  one 
who  has  corrected  it.  To  entertain  that  error  in  the 
face  of  its  correction  would  be  subjective.  A  result 
of  this  interpretation  is  that  the  theories  are  abstracted 
from  the  world  and  regarded  as  something  outside  it. 
It  is  assumed  that  the  theories  are  mental  or  subjective 
and  change  while  the  facts  remain  unchanged.  Even 
when  it  is  assumed  that  theories  and  facts  agree,  men 
speak  of  a  correspondence  or  parallelism  between  idea 
and  the  reality  to  which  it  refers.  While  this  attitude 
seems  to  be  that  of  science  toward  the  disproved  theo- 
ries which  lie  behind  it,  it  is  not  its  attitude  to  the 
theories  which  it  accepts.  These  are  not  regarded  as 
merely  parallel  to  realities,  as  abstracted  from  the 
structure  of  things.  These  meanings  go  into  the  make- 
up of  the  world.  It  is  true  that  the  scientist  who  looks 
before  and  after  realizes   that  any  specific  meaning 


which  IS  now  accepted  may  be  questioned  and  discarded. 
If  he  carries  his  reflection  far  enough  he  sees  that  a  com- 
plete elimination  of  all  the  meanings  which  might  con- 
ceivably be  so  discredited  would  leave  nothing  but  logical 
constants,  a  world  with  no  facts  in  any  sense.  In  this 
position  he  may  of  course  take  an  agnostic  attitude 
and  be  satisfied  with  the  attitude  of  Hume  or  Mill  or 
Russell.  But  if  he  does  so,  he  will  pass  into  the  camp 
of  the  psychological  philosophers  and  will  have  left 
the  position  of  the  scientist.  The  scientist  always  deals 
with  an  actual  problem,  and  even  when  he  looks  before 
and  after  he  does  so  in  so  far  as  he  is  facing  in  in- 
quiry some  actual  problem.  No  actual  problem  could 
conceivably  take  on  the  form  of  a  conflict  involving 
the  whole  world  of  meaning.  The  conflict  always  arises 
between  an  individual  experience  and  certain  laws,  cer- 
tain meanings  while  others  are  unaffected.  These  others 
form  the  necessary  field  without  which  no  conflict  can 
arise.  They  give  the  man  of  research  his  (  ttov  (Ttgo  ) 
upon  which  he  can  formulate  his  problem  and  under- 
take its  solution.  The  possible  calling  in  question  of 
any  content,  whatever  it  may  be,  means  always  that 
there  is  left  a  field  of  unquestioned  reality.  The  atti- 
tude of  the  scientist  never  contemplates  or  could  con- 
template the  possibility  of  a  world  in  which  there 
would  be  no  reality  by  which  to  test  his  hypothetical 
solution  of  the  problem  that  arises.  Nor  does  this 
attitude  when  applied  to  past  discarded  theories  neces- 
sarily carry  with  it  the  implication  that  these  older 
theories  were  subjective  ideas  in  men's  minds,  while 
the  reality  lay  beside  and  beyond  them  unmingled  with 


220 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


ideas.  It  always  finds  a  standpoint  from  which  these 
ideas  in  the  earlier  situation  are  still  recognized  as 
reliable,  for  there  are  no  scientific  data  without  mean- 
ings. There  could  be  no  history  of  science  on  any  other 
basis.  No  history  of  science  goes  back  to  ultimate  ele- 
ments or  sense-data,  or  to  any  combination  of  bare  data 
on  one  hand  and  logical  elements  on  the  other.  The 
world  of  the  scientist  is  always  there  as  one  in  which 
reconstruction  is  taking  place  with  continual  shifting 
of  problems,  but  as  a  real  world  within  which  the  prob- 
lems arise.  The  errors  of  the  past  and  present  appear 
as  untenable  hypotheses  which  could  not  bear  the  test 
of  experiment  if  the  experience  were  sufficiently  en- 
larged and  interpreted.  But  they  are  not  mere  errors 
to  be  thrown  into  the  scrap  heap.  They  become  a  part 
of  a  different  phase  of  reality  which  a  fuller  history 
of  the  past  records  or  a  fuller  account  of  the  present 
interprets,  giving  them  thereby  their  proper  place  in 
a  real  world.* 

The  completion  of  this  program,  however,  awaits  the 
solution  of  the  scientific  problem  of  the  relation  of  the 
psychical  and  the  physical  with  the  attendant  problem 
of  the  meaning  of  the  so-called  origin  of  consciousness 
in  the  history  of  the  world.  My  own  feeling  is  that 
these  problems  must  be  attacked  from  the  standpoint 
of  the  social  nature  of  so-called  consciousness.  The 
clear  indications  of  this  I  find  in  the  reference  of  our 
logical   constants  to  the  structure  of  thought  as   a 

*  In  other  words,  science  assumes  that  every  error  is  ex  pott 
facto  explicable  as  a  function  of  the  real  conditions  under  which 
it  really  arose.  Hence,  '*  consciousness/'  set  over  against  Reality* 
was  not  its  condition. 


SCIENTIFIC  METHOD 


221 


means  of  communication,  in  the  explanation  of  errors 
in  the  history  of  science  by  their  social  determination, 
and  in  the  interpretation  of  the  inner  field  of  experi- 
ence as  the  importation  of  social  intercourse  into  the 
conscious  conduct  of  the  individual.  But  what- 
ever may  be  the  solution  of  these  problems,  it  must 
carry  with  it  such  a  treatment  of  the  experience  of  the 
individual  that  the  latter  will  never  be  regarded  merely 
as  a  subjective  state,  however  inadequate  it  may  have 
proved  itself  as  a  scientific  hypothesis.  This  seems 
to  me  to  be  involved  in  the  conception  of  psychology 
as  a  natural  science  and  in  any  legitimate  carrying 
out  of  the  Hegelian  program  of  giving  reality  and 
creative  import  to  individual  experience.  The  experi- 
ence of  the  individual  in  its  exceptional  character  is 
the  growing-point  of  science,  first  of  all  in  the  recog- 
nition of  data  upon  which  the  older  theories  break,  and 
second  in  the  hypothesis  which  arises  in  the  individual 
and  is  tested  by  the  experiment  which  reconstructs  the 
world.  A  scientific  history  and  a  scientific  psychology 
from  which  epistemology  has  been  banished  must  place 
these  observations  and  hypotheses  together  with  errone- 
ous conceptions  and  mistaken  observations  zdthin  the 
real  world  in  such  a  fashion  that  their  reference  to  the 
experience  of  the  individual  and  to  the  world  to  which 
he  belongs  will  be  comprehensible.  As  I  have  indicated, 
the  scientific  theory  of  the  physical  and  conscious  in- 
dividual in  the  world  implied  in  this  problem  has  still 
to  be  adequately  developed.  But  there  is  implied  in 
the  conception  of  such  a  theory  such  a  location  of  the 
process  of  thought  in  the  process  of  reality  as  will 


£S2 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


give  it  an  import  both  in  the  meaning  of  things  and 
in  the  individual's  thinking.    We  have  the  beginning  of 
such  a  doctrine  in  the  conception  of  a  functional  value 
of  consciousness  in  the  conduct  of  living  forms,  and  the 
development  of  reflective  thought  out  of  such  a  con- 
*     sciousness  which  puts  it  within  the  act  and  gives  it  the 
function  of  preparation  where  adjustment  is  necessary. 
Such  a  process  creates  the  situation  with  reference  to 
which  the  form  acts.    In  all  adjustment  or  adaptation 
the  result  is  that  the  form  which  is  adjusted  finds  that 
by  its  adjustment  it  has  created  an  environment.    The 
ancients  by  their  formulation  of  the  Ptolemaic  theory 
committed  themselves  to  the  world  in  which  the  fixed 
values  of  the  heavenly  over  against  the  earthly  obtained. 
Such  a  world  was  the  interpretation  of  the  experience 
involved  in  their  physical  and  social  attitudes.     They 
could  not  accept  the  hypothesis  of  Aristarchus  because 
it  conflicted  with  the  world  which  they  had  created,  with 
the  values  which  were  determining  values  for  them.   The 
same  was  true  of  the  hypothesis  of  Democritus.     They 
could  not,  as  they  conceived  the  physical  world,  accept 
its  purely  quantitative  character.    The  conception  of  a 
disinterested  truth  which  we  have  cherished  since  the 
Middle  Ages  is  itself  a  value  that  has  a  social  basis  as 
really  as  had  the  dogma  of  the  church.     The  earliest 
statement  of  it  was  perhaps  that  of  Francis  Bacon. 
Freeing  investigation  from  the  church  dogma  and  its 
attendant  logic  meant  to  him  the  freedom  to  find  in 
nature  what  men  needed  and  could  use  for  the  ameliora- 
tion of  their  social  and  physical  condition.     The  full 
implication  of  the  doctrine  has  been  recognized  as  that 


SCIENTIFIC  METHOD 


223 


of  freedom,  freedom  to  eff^ect  not  only  values  already 
recognized,  but  freedom  to  attain  as  well  such  complete 
acquaintance  with  nature  that  new  and  unrecognized 
uses  would  be  at  our  disposal;  that  is,  that  progress 
should  be  one  toward  any  possible  use  to  which   in- 
creased knowledge  might  lead.     The  cult  of  increasing 
knowledge,  of  continually  reconstructing  the  world,  took 
the    place    both    of    the    ancient    conception    of    ade- 
quately organizing  the  world  as  presented  in  thought, 
and  of  the  medieval  conception  of  a  systematic  formula- 
tion on  the  basis  of  the  statement  in  church  dogma  of  so- 
cial values.    This  modern  conception  proceeds  from  the 
standpoint  not  of  formulating  values,  but  giving  society 
at  the  moment  the  largest  possible  number  of  alterna- 
tives of  conduct,  i.e.,  undertaking  to  hx  from  moment 
to  moment  the  widest  possible  field  of  conduct.  The  pur- 
poses of  conduct  are  to  be  determined  in  the  presence 
of  a  field  of  alternative  possibilities  of  action.    The  ends 
of  conduct  are  not  to  be  determined  in  advance,  but  in 
view  of  the  interests  that  fuller  knowledge  of  conditions 
awaken.     So  there  appears  a  conception  of  determin- 
ing the  field  that  shall  be  quite  independent  of  given 
values.     A  real  world  which  consists  not  of  an  un- 
changed universe,  but  of  a  universe  which  may  be  con- 
tinually readjusted  according  to  the  problems  arising 
in  the  consciousness  of  the  individuals  within  society. 
The  seemingly  fixed  character  of  such  a  world  is  found 
in   the  generally  fixed  conditions   which  underlie   the 
type  of  problems  which  we  find.     We  determine  the 
important  conditions  incident  to  the  working  out  of 
the  great  problems  which  face  us.    Our  conception  of  a 


224 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


given  universe  is  formed  in  the  effort  to  mobilize  aQ 
the  material  about  us  in  relation  to  these  problems — 
the  structure  of  the  self,  the  structure  of  matter,  the 
physical  process  of  life,  the  laws  of  change  and  the 
interrelation  of  changes.  With  reference  to  these 
problems  certain  conditions  appear  fixed  and  become 
the  statement  of  the  world  by  which  we  must  deter- 
mine by  experimental  test  the  viability  of  our  hy- 
potheses. There  arises  then  the  conception  of  a  world 
which  is  unquestioned  over  against  any  particular 
problem.  While  our  science  continually  changes  that 
world,  at  least  it  must  be  always  realized  as  there. 
On  the  other  hand,  these  conceptions  are  after  all 
relative  to  the  ends  of  social  conduct  which  may 
be  formulated  in  the  presence  of  any  freedom  of 
action. 

We  postulate  freedom  of  action  as  the  condition  of 
formulating  the  ends  toward  which  our  conduct  shall 
be  directed.  Ancient  thought  assured  itself  of  its  ends 
of  conduct  and  allowed  these  to  determine  the  world 
which  tested  its  hypothesis.  We  insist  such  ends  may 
not  be  formulated  until  we  know  the  field  of  possible 
action.  The  formulation  of  the  ends  is  essentially  a 
social  undertaking  and  seems  to  follow  the  statement 
of  the  field  of  possible  conduct,  while  in  fact  the  state- 
ment of  the  possible  field  of  conduct  is  actually  de- 
pendent on  the  push  toward  action.  A  moving  end 
which  is  continually  reconstructing  itself  follows  upon 
the  continually  enlarging  field  of  opportunities  of 
conduct. 

The  coneeption  of  a  world  of  existence,  then,  is  the 


SCIENTIFIC  METHOD 


225 


result  of  the  determination  at  the  moment  of  the  con- 
ditions of  the  solution  of  the  given  problems.  These 
problems  constitute  the  conditions  of  conduct,  and  the 
ends  of  conduct  can  only  be  determined  as  we  realize 
the  possibilities  which  changing  conditions  carry  with 
them.  Our  world  of  reality  thus  becomes  independent 
of  any  special  ends  or  purposes  and  we  reach  an  en- 
tirely disinterested  knowledge.  And  yet  the  value  and 
import  of  this  knowledge  is  found  in  our  conduct  and 
in  our  continually  changing  conditions.  Knowledge 
for  its  own  sake  is  the  slogan  of  freedom,  for  it  alone 
makes  possible  the  continual  reconstruction  and  en- 
largement of  the  ends  of  conduct. 

The  individual  in  his  experiences  is  continually  creat- 
ing a  world  which  becomes  real  through  his  dis- 
covery. In  so  far  as  new  conduct  arises  under  the 
conditions  made  possible  by  his  experience  and  his  hy- 
pothesis the  world,  which  may  be  made  the  test  of 
reality,  has  been  modified  and  enlarged. 

I  have  endeavored  to  present  the  world  which  is  an 
implication  of  the  scientific  method  of  discovery  with 
entire  abstraction  from  any  epistemological  or  meta- 
physical presuppositions  or  complications.  Scientific 
method  is  indifferent  to  a  world  of  things-in-themselves, 
or  to  the  previous  condition  of  philosophic  servitude  of 
those  to  whom  its  teachings  are  addressed.  It  is  a 
method  not  of  knowing  the  unchangeable  but  of  deter- 
mining the  form  of  the  world  within  which  we  live  as 
it  changes  from  moment  to  moment.  It  undertakes  to 
tell  us  what  we  may  expect  to  happen  when  we  act  in 
such  or  such  a  fashion.     It  has  become  a  matter  of 


226 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


serious  consideration  for  a  philosophy  which  is  inter- 
ested in  a  world  of  things-in- themselves,  and  the  episte- 
mological  problem.     For  the  cherished  structures  of 
the  metaphysical  world,  having  ceased  to  house  the 
values  of  mankind,  provide  good  working  materials  in 
the  hypothetical  structures  of  science,  on  condition  of 
surrendering  their  metaphysical  reality ;  and  the  episte- 
mological  problem,  having  seemingly  died  of  inanition, 
has  been  found  to  be  at  bottom  a  problem  of  method 
or  logic.     My  attempt  has  been  to  present  what  seems 
to  me  to  be  two  capital  instances  of  these  transforma- 
tions.    Science  always  has  a  world  of  reality  by  which 
to  test  its  hypotheses,  but  this  world  is  not  a  world 
independent  of  scientific  experience,  but  the  immediate 
world  surrounding  us  within  which  we  must  act.    Our 
next  action  may  find  these  conditions  seriously  changed, 
and  then  science  will  formulate  this  world  so  that  in 
view  of  this  problem  we  may  logically  construct  our 
next  plan  of  action.     The  plan  of  action  should  be 
made  self-consistent  and  universal  in  its  form,  not  that 
we  may  thus  approach  nearer  to  a  self-consistent  and 
universal  reality  which  is  independent  of  our  conduct, 
but  because  our  plan  of  action  needs  to  be  intelligent 
and  generally  applicable.     Again  science  advances  by 
the  experiences  of  individuals,  experiences  which  are 
different  from  the  world  in  which  they  have   arisen 
and  which  refer  to  a  world  which  is  not  yet  in  existence, 
so  far  as  scientific  experience  is  concerned.     But  this 
relation  to  the  old  and  new  is  not  that  of  a  subjective 
world  to  an  objective  universe,  but  is  a  process  of 
logical  reconstruction  by  which  out  of  exceptions  the 


SCIENTIFIC  METHOD 


227 


new  law  arises  to  replace  a  structure  that  has  become 
inadequate. 

In  both  of  these  processes,  that  of  determining  the 
structure  of  experience  which  will  test  by  experiment 
the  legitimacy  of  the  new  hypothesis,  and  that  of  for- 
mulating the  problem  and  the  hypothesis  for  its  solu- 
tion, the  individual  functions  in  his  full  particularity, 
and  yet  in  organic  relationship  with  the  society  that 
is  responsible  for  him.  It  is  the  import  for  scientific 
method  of  this  relationship  that  promises  most  for  the 
interpretation  of  the  philosophic  problems  involved. 


CONSCIOUSNESS    AND    PSYCHOLOGY 

BOYD   H.   BODE 

If  it  is  true  that  misery  loves  company,  those  per- 
sons who  feel  despondent  over  the  present  situation  in 
philosophy  may  console  themselves  with  the  reflection 
that  things  are  not  so  bad  as  they  might  be.  Our 
friends,  the  psychologists,  are  afficted  even  as  we  are. 
The  disagreements  of  experts  as  to  both  the  subject- 
matter  and  the  method  of  psychology  are  as  funda- 
mental as  anything  that  philosophy  can  show.  A  spirit 
of  revolt  is  abroad  in  the  land,  and  psychology  is  once 
more  on  trial.  The  compact  which  provided  that 
psychology  should  be  admitted  to  the  rank  of  a  natural 
science,  on  condition  that  it  surrender  its  pretension 
to  be  the  science  of  the  soul  and  confine  itself  to  the 
study  of  consciousness,  is  no  longer  considered  binding. 
The  suspicion  is  growing  that  consciousness  is  nothing 
more  nor  less  than  an  attenuated  form  of  the  soul  that 
it  pretends  to  displace.  Consequently  the  psychology 
without  a  soul  to  which  we  have  just  become  accus- 
tomed is  now  attacked  on  behalf  of  a  psychology  with- 
out a  consciousness,  on  the  ground  that  this  latter 
standpoint  alone  can  give  assurance  against  entangling 
alliances  between  psychology  and  metaphysics. 

From  the  side  of  philosophy  this  situation  is  inter- 
esting, not  only  to  such  as  may  crave  the  comfort  that 
springs  from  the  spectacle  of  distress,  but  also  to  those 

228 


CONSCIOUSNESS  AND  PSYCHOLOGY      229 

who  take  a  more  hopeful  view  of  present-day  tend- 
encies. The  question  that  is  at  issue  is  fundamentally 
the  question  of  the  nature  of  consciousness,  which  is 
quite  as  important  to  philosophy  as  to  psychology. 
On  the  one  hand  it  is  maintained  that  psychology  has 
to  do  with  consciousness  and  that  its  distinctive  method 
is  the  method  of  introspection.  On  the  other  hand  it 
is  urged  that  psychology  is  nothing  more  nor  less  than 
a  study  of  behavior,  that  it  is  not  a  science  at  all,  un- 
less the  existence  of  consciousness  is  denied  or  at  least 
ignored,  and  that  the  method  of  introspection  is  a 
delusion  and  a  snare.  The  two  standpoints  are  not 
always  clearly  formulated,  nor  can  we  say  that  every 
system  of  psychology  is  true  to  type.  It  is,  in  fact, 
the  lack  of  clearness  in  the  fundamental  concepts  that 
makes  the  status  of  psychology  a  matter  of  so  much 
uncertainty. 

The  situation  presents  an  apparent  anomaly.  Both 
parties  profess  to  deal  with  facts  of  observation,  yet 
the  claim  of  the  introspectionist  that  he  observes  facts 
of  consciousness  is  met  by  the  assertion  of  his  rival  that 
there  is  no  consciousness  to  be  observed.  How  can  this 
be,  unless  we  assume  that  introspection  presupposes 
an  esoteric  principle,  like  the  principle  of  grace  in 
religion?  It  seems  evident  that  we  have  to  do  here 
with  some  deep-seated  misconception  regarding  the 
facts  that  are  supposed  to  constitute  the  subject- 
matter  for  observation  and  description. 

A  common  procedure  on  the  part  of  introspectionism 
is  to  assert  the  existence  of  consciousness  as  something 
which  is  indeed  indefinable,  but  which  admits  of  obser- 


230 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


yation  and  description.    But  this  procedure  is  no  longer 
justified.     In  the  first  place,  the  assertion  that  con- 
sciousness exists  is  not  the  statement  of  a  fact  but  the 
designation  of  a  problem.     What  is  the  nature  of  the 
fact  that  we  call  consciousness?    If  the  common-sense 
individual,  who  assents  so  readily  to  the  proposition 
that  we  all  know  consciousness,  be  asked  to  differentiate 
between  consciousness  and  the  objects  of  consciousness, 
he  is  dazed  and  helpless.    And,  secondly,  the  assertion 
of  indefinability  involves  us  in  a  difficulty.     The  inde- 
finability  of  consciousness  has  sometimes  been  likened 
to  that  of  space,  but  in  this  latter  case  we  find  no  such 
confusion  between  space  and  the  objects  in  space.     It 
is  clear,  however,  that  if  consciousness  is  not  some- 
thing distinguishable  from  objects,  there  is  no  need  to 
discuss  consciousness,  and  if  it  is  distinguishable,  it 
must  be  distinguished  before  we  are  entitled  to  proceed 
with  observation  and  description.     Definition  is  indis- 
pensable, at  least  to  the  extent  of  circumscribing  the 
facts  that  are  to  be  investigated.     Moreover,  if  con- 
sciousness cannot  be  defined,  neither  can  it  be  described. 
What  is  definition,  after  all,  but  a  form  of  description? 
To  assert,  in  effect,  that  consciousness  is  indefinable 
because  it  is  indescribable,  and  that  for  this  reason  we 
must  be  content  with  description,  is  both  a  flagrant  dis- 
regard of  consistency  and  an  unwarranted  abuse  of  our 
good  nature. 

This  diflBculty  leads  on  to  another,  for  doubts,  like 
lies,  have  a  singular  propensity  to  breed  more  of  their 
kind.  If  consciousness  is  something  that  everybody 
knows,  why  should  it  be  necessary  to  look  to  the  psy- 


CONSCIOUSNESS  AND  PSYCHOLOGY      231 

chologist  for  a  description  of  it?  If  the  study  of  con- 
sciousness brings  to  light  any  new  fact,  that  fact  by 
definition  is  not  a  conscious  fact  at  all,  and  consequently 
is  not  the  kind  of  thing  that  we  set  out  to  describe. 
Consciousness,  in  short,  cannot  be  analyzed;  it  cannot 
be  resolved  into  elements  or  constituents.  It  is 
precisely  what  it  is  and  not  some  product  of 
our  after-thought  that  we  are  pleased  to  substitute 
for  it. 

These  familiar  considerations  do  not,  indeed,  decide 
the  issue  between  the  rival  theories  of  psychology,  but 
they  serve  to  suggest  that  our  introspective  psychology 
has  been  too  easily  satisfied  in  the  conception  of  its 
specific  problem  or  subject-matter.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  the  work  that  has  been  done  in  the  name  of  psy- 
chology has  been  peculiarly  barren  of  results,  so  far 
as  a  consciousness  an  sich  is  concerned,  although  it  has 
led  to  a  wealth  of  material  pertaining  to  adaptive  be- 
havior. Its  solid  achievements  lie  in  the  domain,  not 
of  consciousness,  but  of  instinctive,  habitual,  and  in- 
telligent adaptation.  It  teaches  us  little  that  has  to 
do  unequivocally  with  consciousness  as  distinct  from 
things,  but  it  teaches  us  much  concerning  stimulus  and 
response,  attention  and  habit,  conflict  and  adjustment. 
The  doctrine  that  psychology  is  a  science  of  behavior 
is  justified  at  least  to  the  extent  that  it  emphasizes  a 
factor,  the  importance  of  which  introspectionism  has 
consistently  refused  to  recognize.  Whatever  conclu- 
sion we  may  ultimately  reach  regarding  the  nature  of 
consciousness,  the  whole  drift  of  psychological  and 
biological  investigation  seems  to  indicate  that  an  ade- 


232 


CREATIVE   INTELLIGENCE 


quate  conception  of  consciousness  and  of  the  distinc- 
tive problem  of  psychology  can  be  attained  only  on  the 
basis  of  a  painstaking  reflection  on  the  facts  of  be- 
havior. 


It  is  evident  that  the  attempt  to  ascertain  the  nature 
of  consciousness  and  of  psychology  from  the  stand- 
point of  behavior  is  committed  to  the  assumption  that 
the  behavior  in  question  is  of  a  distinctive  kind.  The 
justification  of  this  assumption  will  enable  us  to  for- 
mulate the  definitions  which  we  seek.  Discussions  of 
conscious  behavior  ordinarily  emphasize  the  similarity 
between  conscious  and  reflex  behavior  rather  than  the 
difference.  An  attitude  of  expectancy,  for  example, 
is  usually  conceived  as  a  sort  of  temporary  reflex. 
Certain  nervous  connections  are  organized  for  the  oc- 
casion, so  that,  when  a  given  stimulus  arrives,  it  will 
induce  its  appropriate  response.  This  situation  is 
best  exemplified,  perhaps,  in  simple  reaction-experi- 
ments, in  which  the  subject  makes  a  certain  predeter- 
mined response  upon  presentation  of  the  stimulus.  The 
process  is  supposed  to  be  of  the  reflex  type  throughout, 
the  only  difference  being  that  ordinary  reflexes  are 
relatively  permanent  and  unvarying,  whereas  a  pre- 
arranged response  to  a  stimulus  has  to  do  with  a  reflex 
that  is  made  to  order  so  as  to  meet  the  exigencies 
of  the  moment. 

For  certain  purposes  such  a  description  of  conscious 
behavior  is  no  doubt  sufficiently  accurate.  Our  present 
concern,  however,  is  with  the  differences  between  these 


CONSCIOUSNESS  AND  PSYCHOLOGY      23S 

temporary  organizations  and  ordinary  reflexes.  In 
order  to  bring  out  these  differences,  let  us  introduce 
a  slight  complication  into  our  reaction-experiment  and 
suppose  that  the  subject  is  to  make  one  of  two  alterna- 
tive responses,  according  to  the  nature  of  the  stimulus. 
His  state  of  expectancy  is  accompanied  by  a  certain 
bodily  "  set "  or  preparedness  for  the  coming  event, 
although  the  precise  nature  of  the  event  is  a  matter  of 
uncertainty.  His  nervous  system  is  in  readiness  to 
respond  this  way  or  that,  or  rather,  it  has  already 
started  to  act  in  both  of  the  alternative  ways.  If  the 
subject  is  to  respond  with  the  right  hand  to  one  stimu- 
lus and  with  the  left  hand  to  the  other,  both  hands 
are  in  a  state  of  activity  before  the  stimulus  appears. 
The  organization  of  the  temporary  reflex  through  the 
agency  of  the  cerebral  cortex  could  not  be  achieved 
were  it  not  for  the  fact  that  all  the  movements  entering 
into  the  organization  are  nascently  aroused  before  the 
spring  is  touched  which  permits  the  act  to  unroll  itself 
in  orderly  sequence. 

The  various  successive  movements,  then,  which  make 
up  our  temporary  reflex  achieve  their  relationship  to 
one  another  from  the  fact  that  they  are  started  simul- 
taneously, and  this  peculiarity  constitutes  a  distinctive 
feature.  Apparently  this  feature  is  absent  from  true 
reflexes.  An  act  of  swallowing,  performed  uncon- 
sciously, may  start  the  complicated  processes  of  diges- 
tion, but  it  is  merely  the  first  act  of  a  series.  There 
is  no  evidence  that  the  movements  of  the  stomach  and 
of  the  other  organs  concerned  in  digestion  must  be  pre- 
supposed before  the  act  of  swallowing  can  take  place. 


234 


CREATIVE   INTELLIGENCE 


The  swallowing  may  start  the  other  processes,  but  we 
cannot  say  that  these  other  processes  react  back  upon 
the  first  act  and  make  it  one  of  swallowing  rather  than 
something  else.  Yet  this  "  back  stroke  *'  is  precisely 
what  is  necessary  in  our  reaction-experiment,  for  it  is 
by  virtue  of  this  fact  that  the  organization  of  the  tem- 
porary reflex  becomes  a  possibility.  The  first  response 
cannot  take  place  until  the  last  is  provided  for.  Thus 
the  immediate  act  of  looking  has  embodied  in  it  the 
activity  that  is  to  follow  later.  The  looking  is  not 
simply  with  the  eye,  but  with  the  hands  that  are  to 
complete  the  response.  The  optical  response  is  a  re- 
sponse which,  in  the  language  of  Bergson,  prefigures 
or  sketches  out  the  act  of  a  later  moment.  The  nervous 
system  is  enabled  to  act  as  a  unit,  because  the  move- 
ments that  are  to  occur  at  a  later  time  are  represented 
in  the  first  stage  of  the  complete  act.  The  first  stage, 
accordingly,  does  not  occur  independently,  but  as  a 
preliminary  to  the  second.  With  an  imperfect  organi- 
zation of  the  entire  response,  it  may  happen  that  the 
subsequent  movements  are  not  suppressed  until  their 
proper  moment  arrives,  but  appear  in  advance  of  their 
scheduled  time.  In  writing,  for  example,  we  frequently 
omit  words  or  add  to  a  word  the  final  letter  of  some 
word  that  belongs  to  a  subsequent  part  of  the  sentence. 
An  error  of  this  sort  could  hardly  occur  so  readily  in 
the  course  of  an  act  that  belongs  to  the  type  of  the 
true  reflex. 

Lest  the  reader  suspect  that  this  is  a  priori  physi- 
ology, I  may  quote  the  following  from  a  prominent 
neurologist :    "  No  simple  sensory  impulse  can,  under 


CONSCIOUSNESS  AND  PSYCHOLOGY      235 

ordinary  circumstances,  reach  the  cerebral  cortex  with- 
out first  being  influenced  by  subcortical  association 
centers,  within  which  complex  reflex  combinations  may 
be  effected  and  various  automatisms  set  off  in  accord- 
ance with  their  preformed  structure.  These  subcor- 
tical systems  are  to  some  extent  modifiable  by  racial 
and  individual  experience,  but  their  reactions  are  chiefly 
of  the  determinate  or  stereotyped  character,  with  a 
relatively  limited  range  of  possible  reaction  types  for 
any  given  stimulus  complex. 

*'  It  is  shown  by  the  lower  vertebrates,  which  lack 
the  cei:ebral  cortex,  that  these  subcortical  mechanisms 
are  adequate  for  all  of  the  ordinary  simple  processes 
of  life,  including  some  degree  of  associative  memory. 
But  here,  when  emergencies  arise  which  involve  situa- 
tions too  complex  to  be  resolved  by  these  mechanisms, 
the  animal  will  pay  the  inevitable  penalty  of  fail- 
ure— perhaps  the  loss  of  his  dinner,  or  even  of  his 
life. 

**  In  the  higher  mammals  with  well-developed  cortex 
the  automatisms  and  simple  associations  are  likewise 
performed  mainly  by  the  subcortical  apparatus,  but 
the  inadequacy  of  this  apparatus  in  any  particular  sit- 
uation presents  not  the  certainty  of  failure,  but  rather 
a  dilemma.  The  rapid  preformed  automatisms  fail  to 
give  relief,  or  perhaps  the  situation  presents  so  many 
complex  sensory  excitations  as  to  cause  mutual  inter- 
ference and  inhibition  of  all  reaction.  There  is  a  stasis 
in  the  subcortical  centers.  Meanwhile  the  higher  neural 
resistance  of  the  cortical  pathways  has  been  overcome 
by  summation  of  stimuli  and  the  cortex  is  excited  to 


236 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


function.  Here  is  a  mechanism  adapted,  not  for  a 
limited  number  of  predetermined  and  immediate  re- 
sponses, but  for  a  much  greater  range  of  combination 
of  the  afferent  impressions  with  each  other  and  with 
memory  vestiges  of  previous  reactions  and  a  much 
larger  range  of  possible  modes  of  response  to  any  given 
set  of  afferent  impressions.  By  a  process  of  trial  and 
error,  perhaps,  the  elements  necessary  to  effect  the 
adaptive  response  may  be  assembled  and  the  problem 
solved. 

"It  IS  evident  here  that  the  physiological  factors 
in  the  dilemma  or  problem  as  this  is  presented  to  the 
cortex  are  by  no  means  simple  sensory  impressions, 
but  definitely  organized  systems  of  neural  discharge, 
each  of  which  is  a  physiological  resultant  of  the  re- 
flexes, automatisms,  impulses,  and  inhibitions  charac- 
teristic of  its  appropriate  subcortical  centers.  The 
precise  form  which  these  subcortical  combinations  will 
assume  in  response  to  any  particular  excitation  is  in 
large  measure  determined  by  the  structural  connections 
inter  se,   ,    ,    • 

"  From  the  standpoint  of  the  cerebral  cortex  con- 
sidered as  an  essential  part  of  the  mechanism  of  higher 
conscious  acts,  every  afferent  stimulus,  as  we  have  seen, 
is  to  some  extent  affected  by  its  passage  through  vari- 
ous subcortical  association  centers  (i.e.,  it  carries  a 
quale  of  central  origin).  But  this  same  afferent  im- 
pulse in  its  passage  through  the  spinal  cord  and  brain 
stem  may,  before  reaching  the  cortex,  discharge  col- 
lateral impulses  into  the  lower  centers  of  reflex  coordi- 
nation, from  which  incipient  (or  even  actually  consum- 


CONSCIOUSNESS  AND  PSYCHOLOGY      287 

mated)  motor  responses  are  discharged  previous  to  the 
cortical  reaction.  These  motor  discharges  may, 
through  the  *  back  stroke'  action,  in  turn  exert  an 
influence  upon  the  slower  cortical  reaction.  Thus  the 
lower  reflex  response  may  in  a  literal  physiological 
sense  act  into  the  cortical  stimulus  complex  and  become 

an  integral  part  of  it."* 

It  seems  clear,  then,  that  conscious  behavior  involves 
a  certain  process  of  organization  which  constitutes  a 
differential.  The  units  entering  into  this  process  are 
"definitely  organized  systems  of  neural  discharge," 
the  antecedent  organization  of  these  several  systems 
being  due  either  to  the  inherited  or  to  the  acquired 
structure  of  the  nervous  system.  Given  a  certain 
amount  of  plasticity,  the  nervous  system  builds  up 
specific  forms  of  response  for  certain  objects  or  situa- 
tions, and  these  forms  of  response  subsequently  become 
the  material  from  which  new  organizations  or  new 
modes  of  response  are  constructed.  The  achievements 
of  the  past,  accordingly,  become  stepping-stones  to 
new  achievement.  The  new  organization,  moreover,  is 
not  determined  by  a  mechanism  antecedently  provided, 
but  has  a  peculiar  flexibility,  so  as  to  meet  the  demands 
of  a  new  situation.  That  is,  a  new  mode  of  procedure 
is  adopted.  Instead  of  being  a  purely  mechanical 
reaction,  the  response  that  results  from  the  situation 
is  tentative  or  experimental  in  character,  and  "  by  a 
process  of  trial  and  error,  perhaps,  the  elements  neces- 

•  C.  Judson  Herrick,  "  Some  Reflections  on  the  Origin  and  Sig- 
nificance of  the  Cerebral  Cortex,"  Journal  of  Animal  Behavior, 
VoL  III,  pp.  228-233. 


2S8 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


sary  to  effect  the  adaptive  response  may  be  assembled 
and  the  problem  solved." 

We  may  add  at  once  that  the  reorganization  which  is 
required  to  constitute  conscious  behavior  varies  a  great 
deal  in  extent.  In  an  act  that  is  more  or  less  habitual, 
a  comparatively  slight  modification  of  the  correspond- 
ing organized  system  of  neural  discharge  will  suffice 
to  harmonize  the  conflicting  elements,  whereas  on  other 
occasions  a  more  extensive  modification  is  required. 
But  in  any  case  it  appears  that  there  is  a  certain 
impropriety  in  describing  conscious  behavior  in  terms 
of  a  temporary  reflex,  since  the  study  of  this  behavior 
is  concerned  with  the  organization  of  the  discordant 
elements,  not  as  a  result,  but  primarily  as  a  process. 
In  a  reflex  act  we  may  suppose  that  the  stimulus  which 
evokes  the  first  stage  in  the  response  is  like  the  first 
in  a  row  of  upstanding  bricks,  which  in  falling  knocks 
down  another.  That  is,  the  reflex  arc  is  built  up  by 
agencies  that  are  quite  independent  of  the  subsequent 
act.  The  arc  is  all  set  up  and  ready  for  use  by  the 
time  the  reflex  act  appears  upon  the  scene.  In  the  case 
of  conscious  activity,  on  the  other  hand,  we  find  a  very 
different  state  of  affairs.  The  arc  is  not  first  con- 
structed and  then  used,  but  is  constructed  as  the  act 
proceeds;  and  this  progressive  organization  is,  in  the 
end,  what  is  meant  by  conscious  behavior.  If  the 
course  of  a  reflex  act  may  be  compared  with  traveling 
in  a  railroad  train,  the  progress  of  a  conscious  act  is 
more  like  that  of  a  band  of  explorers,  who  hew  their 
path  and  build  their  bridges  as  they  go  along.     The 


CONSCIOUSNESS  AND  PSYCHOLOGY      239 

direction  of  the  act  is  not  determined  from  without  but 
from  within ;  the  end  is  internal  to  the  process. 

This  process  of  organization  and  purposive  direction 
is  exemplified  in  every  act  of  attention.    Is  that  noise, 
for  example,  a  horse  in  the  street,  or  is  it  the  rain  on 
the  roof.?     What  we  find  in  such  a  situation  is  not  a 
paralysis  of  activity,  but  a  redirection.     The  incom- 
patibility of  responses  is  purely  relative.     There  is 
indeed  a  mutual  inhibition  of  the  responses  for  hoof- 
beats  and  rain  respectively,  in  the  sense  that  neither 
has  undisputed  possession  of  the  field;  but  this  very 
inhibition  sets  free  the  process  of  attention,  in  which 
the    various    responses    participate    and    cooperate. 
There  is  no  static  balancing  of  forces,  but  rather  a 
process  in  which  the  conflict  is  simply  a  condition  for 
an  activity  of  a  different  kind.    If  I  am  near  a  window 
facing  the  street,  my  eye  turns  thither  for  a  clue;  if 
the  appeal  to  vision  be  eliminated,  the  eye  becomes 
unseeing  and  cooperates  with  the  ear  by  excluding  all 
that  is  irrelevant  to  the  matter  in  hand.     In  this  pro- 
cess the  nervous  system  functions  as  a  unit,  with  refer- 
ence to  the  task  of  determining  the  source  and  char- 
acter of  the  sound.     This  task  or  problem  dominates 
the  situation.    A  voice  in  an  adjoining  room  may  break 
in,  but  only  as  something  to  be  ignored  and  shut  out ; 
whereas  a  voice  in  the  street  may  become  all-absorbing 
as  possibly  indicating  the  driver  of  the  hypothetical 
horse.     That  is,  the  reason  why  the  conflict  of  re- 
sponses does  not  end  in  a  deadlock,  but  in  a  redirection, 
is  that  a  certain  selectiveness  of  response  comes  into 
play.    Out  of  the  mass  of  more  or  less  inchoate  activi- 


240 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


ties  a  certain  response  is  selected  as  a  rallying-pomt 
for  the  rest,  and  this  selection  is  of  a  purposive  char- 
acter. The  selection  is  determined  by  reference  to  the 
task  in  hand,  which  is  to  restore  a  certain  harmony 
of  response.  Accordingly,  that  response  is  selected 
which  gives  promise  of  forwarding  the  business  of  the 
moment.  By  virtue  of  this  selective  character,  one  of  the 
constituents  of  the  total  activity  becomes  exalted  among 
its  fellows  and  is  entrusted  with  the  function  of  deter- 
mining further  behavior. 

The  purpose  of  the  discussion,  up  to  this  point,  is 
to  put  forward  this  selective  or  teleological  character 
as  the  fundamental  and  differentiating  trait  of  conscious 
behavior;  and  our  task,  accordingly,  is  to  give  an  ac- 
count of  the  nature  and  modus  operandi  of  this  purpo- 
sive control.  This  control,  it  is  evident,  consists  in  giv- 
ing direction  to  behavior  with  reference  to  results  that 
are  still  in  the  future.  The  basis  for  this  anticipation 
of  the  future  is  furnished  by  the  nascent  responses 
which  foreshadow  further  activity,  even  while  they  are 
still  under  the  thraldom  of  the  inhibitions  which  hold 
them  back.  These  suppressed  activities  furnish  a  sort 
of  diagram  or  sketch  of  further  possible  behavior,  and 
the  problem  of  consciousness  is  the  problem  of  making 
the  result  or  outcome  of  these  incipient  responses  ef- 
fective in  the  control  of  behavior.  Future  results  or 
consequences  must  be  converted  into  present  stimuli; 
and  the  accomplishment  of  this  conversion  is  the  miracle 
of  consciousness.  To  be  conscious  is  to  have  a  future 
possible  result  of  present  behavior  embodied  as  a  present 
existence  functioning  as  a  stimulus  to  further  behavior. 


CONSCIOUSNESS  AND  PSYCHOLOGY      241 

Thus  the  qualities  of  a  perceptual  experience  may  be 
interpreted,  without  exception,  as  anticipations  of  the 
results  of  activities  which  are  as  yet  in  an  embryonic 
stage.    The  results  of  the  activity  that  is  as  yet  partly 
suppressed  are  already  expressed  or  anticipated  in  the 
perception.  The  present  experience  may,  as  James  says, 
"  shoot  its  perspective  far  before  it,  irradiating  in  ad- 
vance the  regions  in  which  lie  the  thoughts  as  yet  un- 
born."*    A  baseball  player,  for  example,  who  is  all 
"  set "  to  field  a  ball  as  a  preliminary  to  a  further  play, 
sees  the  ball,  not  simply  as  an  approaching  object, 
but  as  ball-to-be-caught-and-then-thrown-to-first-base. 
Moreover,  the  ball,  while  still  on  the  way,  is  a  ball-that- 
may-bound-to-the-right-or-to-the-left.  The  correspond- 
ing movements  of  the  player  to  the  right  or  left,  and 
the  act  of  throwing,  although  present  only  as  inhibited 
or  incipient  acts,  are  nevertheless  embodied  in  the  visual 
experience.    Similarly  my  couch  looks  soft  and  inviting, 
because  the  optical  stimulation  suggests  or  prompts,  not 
only  the  act  of  lying  down,  but  also  the  kind  of  relaxa- 
tion that  is  made  possible  by  a  comfortable  bed.     So 
likewise  the  tiger's  jaws  and  claws  look  cruel  and  horri- 
ble, because  in  that  perception  are  reflected  the  incipi- 
ent movements  of  defense  and  recoil  which  are  going  on 
in  the  body  of  the  observer.     Perception,  like  our  air- 
castles,  or  like  dreams  in  the  Freudian  theory,  presents 
what  is  at  best  but  a  suggestion  or  program  in  the  guise 
of  accomplished  fact. 

This  projection,  however,  of  our  submerged  activi- 
ties into  our  perceptions  requires  a  more  precise  state- 

•  Psychology,  Vol.  I,  p.  256. 


242 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


ment.  According  to  the  foregoing  contention,  the  ap- 
pearance, for  example,  of  a  razor's  edge  as  sharp  is  the 
sensory  correlate  of  an  incipient  response  which,  if  it 
were  to  attain  full-blown  perfection,  would  be  the 
reaction  to  a  cut.  By  hypothesis,  however,  the  response 
is  inhibited,  and  it  is  this  inhibition  which  calls  forth 
the  perception  of  the  object.  If  the  response  encoun- 
tered no  obstruction,  adaptation  would  be  complete  and 
perception  would  not  occur.  Since  there  is  a  blocking 
of  the  response,  nature  resorts  to  a  special  device  in 
order  to  overcome  the  difficulty,  and  this  device  con- 
sists in  furnishing  the  organism  with  a  new  type  of 
stimulus.  The  razor  as  perceived  does  not  actually 
cut  just  now,  but  it  bodies  forth  the  quality  *  will  cut,' 
i.e.,  the  perceived  attribute  derives  its  character  from 
what  the  object  will,  or  may,  do  at  a  future  time.  That 
is,  a  perceived  object  is  a  stimulus  which  controls  or 
directs  the  organism  by  results  which  have  not  yet  oc- 
curred, but  which  will,  or  may,  occur  in  the  future. 
The  uniqueness  of  such  a  stimulus  lies  in  the  fact  that 
a  contingent  result  somehow  becomes  operative  as  a 
present  fact ;  the  future  is  transferred  into  the  present 
so  as  to  become  effective  in  the  guidance  of  behavior. 

This  control  by  a  future  that  is  made  present  is  what 
constitutes  consciousness.  A  living  body  may  respond 
to  an  actual  cut  by  a  knife  on  purely  mechanical  or 
reflex  principles ;  but  to  respond  to  a  cut  by  anticipa- 
tion, i.e.,  to  behave  with  reference  to  a  merely  possible 
or  future  injury,  is  manifestly  an  exhibition  of  intelli- 
gence. Not  that  there  need  be  any  conscious  reference 
to  the  future  as  future  in  the  act.     Merely  to  sec  the 


CONSCIOUSNESS  AND  PSYCHOLOGY      243 

object  as  "sharp"  is  sufficient  to  give  direction  to 
conduct.     But  "  sharp  "  is  equivalent  to  "  will  cut  " ; 
the  quality  of  sharpness  is  a  translation  of  future  pos- 
sibility   into    terms    of    present    fact,    and    as    thus 
translated    the    future    possibility    becomes    a    factor 
in     the     control     of     behavior.      Perception,     there- 
fore, is  a  point  where  present   and  future  coincide. 
What  the  object  wUl  do  is,  in  itself,  just  a  contingency, 
an  abstract  possibility,  but  in  perception  this  possi- 
bility clothes  itself  in  the  garments  of  present,  con- 
crete fact  and  thus  provides  the  organism  with  a  differ- 
ent environment.     The   environment   provides   a  new 
stimulus  by  undergoing  a  certain  kind  of  change,  i.e., 
by  exercising  a  peculiar  function  of  control.    This  con- 
trol is  seeing,  and  the  whole  mystery  of  consciousness  is 
just  this  rendering  of  future  stimulations  or  results  into 
terms  of  present  existence.    Consciousness,  accordingly, 
is  a  name  for  a  certain  change  that  takes  place  in  the 
stimulus;  or,  more  specifically,  it  is  a  name  for  the 
control  of  conduct  by  future  results  or  consequences. 

To  acquire  such  a  stimulus  and  to  become  conscious 
are  one  and  the  same  thing.  As  was  indicated  previ- 
ously, the  conscious  stimulus  is  correlated  with  the  vari- 
ous inherited  and  acquired  motor  tendencies  which  have 
been  set  off  and  which  are  struggling  for  expression, 
and  the  uniqueness  of  the  stimulus  lies  in  the  fact  that 
the  adaptive  value  of  these  nascent  motor  tendencies  be- 
comes operative  as  the  determining  principle  in  the 
organization  of  the  response.  The  response,  for  exam- 
ple, to  "  sharp ''  or  "  will  cut "  is  reminiscent  of  an 
earlier  reaction  in  which  the  organism  engaged  in  cer- 


S44 


CREATIVE   INTELLIGENCE 


Ml 


tain  defensive  movements  as  the  result  of  an  actual  in- 
jury. That  is,  the  response  to  "  sharp  '*  is  a  nascent 
or  incipient  form  of  a  response  which  at  the  time  of  its 
first  occurrence  was  the  expression  of  a  maladaptation. 
The  response  that  is  induced  when  an  object  is  seen  as 
sharp  would  be  biologically  bad,  if  it  were  com- 
pleted, and  the  fact  that  the  object  is  seen  as  sharp 
means  that  this  result  is  foreshadowed  and  oper- 
ates as  a  stimulus  to  prevent  such  maladaptation. 
Similarly  the  couch  which  meets  my  weary  eye  becomes 
a  stimulus  to  repose  because  the  nascent  activity  which 
is  aroused  would  be  biologically  good  if  completed.  In 
any  case  the  character  of  the  stimulus  is  determined  by 
the  adaptive  value  which  the  incipient  activity  would 
have  if  it  were  carried  out.  Consciousness,  accord- 
ingly, is  just  a  future  adaptation  that  has  been  set  to 
work  so  as  to  bring  about  its  own  realization.  The 
future  thus  becomes  operative  in  the  present,  in  much 
the  same  way  as  the  prospects  for  next  year's  crop  may 
be  converted  by  the  farmer  into  ready  money  with 
which  to  secure  the  tools  for  its  production. 

To  justify  this  conclusion  by  a  detailed  and  extensive 
application  of  this  interpretation  to  every  form  of 
quality  and  relation  would  carry  us  beyond  the  limits  of 
the  present  undertaking.  It  is  a  view,  however,  which 
offers  possibilities  that  have  not  as  yet  been  properly 
recognized.  Certain  considerations,  besides  those  al- 
ready discussed,  may  be  mentioned  as  giving  it  an  ante- 
cedent plausibility.  As  regards  simple  sense-qualities, 
there  is  abundant  reason  for  believing  that  Locke's  doc- 
trine of  "  simple  ideas  "  is  a  violent  perversion  of  the 


CONSCIOUSNESS  AND  PSYCHOLOGY      245 

facts.  To  assume  that  the  last  results  of  analysis  are  the 
first  things  in  experience  is  to  give  a  fatal  twist  to  psy- 
chology and  to  commit  us  to  the  fruitless  agonies  of 
epistemology.     The  original  «  blooming,  buzzing  con- 
fusion "  with  which  experience  starts  becomes  differ- 
entiated into  specific  qualities  only  to  the  extent  that 
certain  typical  and  organized  forms  of  response  are 
built  up  within  the  body.     Sense-qualities,  in  other 
words,  are  functionally  not  simple  but  extremely  com- 
plex ;  they  owe  their  distinctiveness  or  individuality  to 
the  fact  that  each  of  them  embodies  a  specific  set  of 
cues  or  anticipations,  with  reference  to  further  experi- 
ences.    The  difference  between  a  quality  like  "  sharp- 
ness "  and  a  quality  like  "  red  "  lies  in  the  fact  that 
the  former  is  a  translation  of  a  relatively  simple  possi- 
bility, viz.,  "  will  cut,"  whereas  the  latter  embodies  a 
^eater  variety  of  anticipations.     The  perception  of 
red,  being  the  outcome  of  many  comparisons  and  asso- 
ciations,   presupposes    a    complex    physical    response 
which  contains  multitudinous  tendencies  to  reinstate 
former  responses ;  and  the  combined  effect  of  these  sup- 
pressed tendencies  is  the  perception  of  a  color  which 
offers  possibilities  of  control  over  behavior  in  such  direc- 
tions as  reminiscences,  idle  associations,  or  perhaps 
scrutiny  and  investigation.    A  similar  explanation  evi- 
dently applies  to  abstract  ideas,  which  neither  admit 
of  reduction  to  "  revived  sensations  "  nor  compel  the 
adoption  of  a  peculiarly  ''  spiritual "  or  "  psychic  " 
existence  in  the  form  of  unanalyzable  meanings.    Here 
again  a  complex  mode  of  response  must  be  assumed, 
having  as  its  correlate  an  experience  describable  only 


i. 


246 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


in  terms  of  its  functioning,  which  is  such  as  to 
enable  the  organism  to  act  intelligently,  i.e.,  with  ref- 
erence to  future  results,  which  are  sufficiently  embodied 
in  the  experience  to  secure  appropriate  behavior. 
Again,  this  point  of  view  offers  a  satisfactory  solution 
for  the  time-worn  puzzle  of  relativity.  If  perception  is 
just  the  translation  of  future  possible  stimulations  into 
present  fact,  there  is  assuredly  no  justification  for 
the  notion  that  perception  distorts  the  facts  or  that 
discrepancies  among  different  perceptions  prove  their 
"  subjectivity.*'  There  remains  but  one  test  by  which 
the  correctness  or  validity  of  perception  may  be 
judged,  viz.,  whether  the  perceived  object  proves  to  be 
the  kind  of  stimulus  which  is  reported  or  anticipated  in 
the  present  experience. 

So  far  our  discussion  has  emphasized  the  anticipa- 
tory character  of  the  conscious  stimulus.  Future  con- 
sequences come  into  the  present  as  conditions  for  fur- 
ther behavior.  These  anticipations  are  based,  indeed, 
upon  previous  happenings,  but  they  enter  into  the 
present  situation  as  conditions  that  must  be  taken  into 
account.  But  to  take  them  into  account  means  that 
the  conscious  situation  is  essentially  incomplete  and  in 
process  of  transformation  or  reconstruction.  This 
peculiar  incompleteness  or  contingency  stands  out 
prominently  when  the  situation  rises  to  the  level  of 
uncertainty  and  perplexity.  To  borrow  the  classical 
illustration  of  the  child  and  the  candle,  the  child 
is  in  a  state  of  uncertainty  because  the  neural 
activity  of  the  moment  comprises  two  incompatible 
systems  of  discharge,  the  one  being  a  grasping  and 


CONSCIOUSNESS  AND  PSYCHOLOGY      247 

holding,   the   other   a   withdrawal   and    such   further 
movements  as  may  be  induced  by  contact  with  fire. 
Hence  the  candle  has  the   seductiveness   of  a  prize, 
but  at  the  same  time  carries  the  suggestion  of  burn- 
ing the  fingers.     That  is,  the  perceived  object  has 
a  unique  character  of  uncertainty,  which  inheres  in  it 
as  a  present  positive  quality.    We  are  here  confronted 
with  genuine  contingency,  such  as  is  encountered  no- 
where else.    Other  modes  of  behavior  may  be  uncertain 
in  the  sense  that  the  incoming  stimulation  finds  no  fixed 
line  of  discharge  laid  down  for  itself  within  the  organ- 
ism.   In  seeking  to  convert  itself  into  response  it  may 
either  sweep  away  the  obstructions  in  its  path  or  work 
itself  out  along  lines  of  less  resistance,  in  ways  that  no 
man  can  foretell.     There  may  be  moments  of  equilib- 
rium, moments  when  it  remains  to  be  seen  where  the 
dam  will  break  and  the  current  rush  through.     Such 
uncertainty,  however,  is  the  uncertainty  of  the  by- 
stander who  attempts  to  forecast  what  will  happen 
next.     It  is  not  the  uncertainty  that  figures  as  an 
integral  part  of  conscious  behavipr. 

This  inherent  uncertainty  means  that  conscious 
behavior,  as  contrasted  with  the  mechanical  character 
of  the  reflexes,  is  essentially  experimental.  The  un- 
certainty exists  precisely  because  an  effort  is  under  way 
to  clear  up  the  uncertainty.  The  resort  to  eye  or  ear 
or  to  reflective  thinking  is  suggested  by  the  corre- 
sponding nascent  responses  and  is  an  endeavor  to  se- 
cure something  which  is  still  to  seek,  but  which,  when 
found,  will  meet  the  requirements  of  the  situation. 
Translating  this  process  into  terms  of  stimulus  and 


248 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


it 


-•] 


response,  we  may  say  that  the  conscious  stimulus 
of  the  moment  induces  the  investigation  or  scrutiny 
which  presently  results  in  the  arrival  of  a  stimulus  that 
is  adequate  to  the  situation.  The  stimulus,  in  other 
words,  provides  for  its  own  successor;  or  we  may  say 
that  the  process  as  a  whole  is  a  self-directing,  self- 
determining  activity.  Stimulus  and  response  are  not 
successive  stages  or  moments,  but  rather  simultaneous 
functions  or  phases  of  the  total  process.  Within  this 
process  the  given  situation  is  the  stimulus  because 
it  is  that  aspect  or  function  which  guides  the  subse- 
quent course  of  the  activity,  while  the  bodily  movements 
are  the  response  because  they  already  embody  the  ac- 
tivity that  is  to  follow.  The  significant  circumstance 
here  is  that  stimulus  and  response  resist  the  temporal 
separation  that  we  find  in  a  purely  reflex  act ;  stimulus 
and  response  are  bound  together  as  correlated  func- 
tions in  a  unitary,  self-directing  process,  so  that  these 
twain  are  one  flesh. 

Situations  of  uncertainty  and  expectancy,  as  exem- 
plified by  the  familiar  child-candle  incident,  are  of  in- 
terest because  they  emphasize  both  the  anticipatory 
character  of  experience  and  the  peculiar  reconstruction 
of  the  stimulus.  These  situations,  however,  differ 
merely  in  degree,  not  in  kind,  from  other  experiences; 
their  merit  is  that  in  them  the  distinctive  character  of 
conscious  life  is  writ  large.  To  say  that  they  are  con- 
scious situations  is  to  say  that  they  are  so  constituted 
that  the  possibilities  of  a  subsequent  moment  are  em- 
bodied in  them  as  a  positive  quality.  In  them  the 
present  moment  embodies  a  future  that  is  contingent. 


CONSCIOUSNESS  AND  PSYCHOLOGY      249 

And  similarly  the  response  has  neither  the  predeter- 
mined organization  of  the  reflex  nor  the  aimless  char- 
acter of  a  response  that  issues  in  a  set  of  random  move- 
ments. It  is,  so  to  speak,  of  a  generalized  character, 
like  the  paleontological  specimens  that  foreshadow  in 
their  structure  the  advent  of  both  fish  and  reptile.  This 
form  of  organization,  however,  while  exemplified  most 
strikingly  in  situations  of  uncertainty,  pertains  to  all 
conscious  behavior.  In  uttering  a  sentence,  for  exam- 
ple, we  know  in  advance  what  we  are  going  to  say,  yet 
the  sentence  shapes  itself  into  definite  form  only  as  we 
proceed ;  or  perhaps  we  get  "  stuck,"  and  by  hemming 
and  hawing  bear  witness  that  a  struggle  for  a  certain 
kind  of  organization  is  going  on.  The  same  word  in 
different  contexts  is  a  different  word  in  each  instance, 
by  virtue  of  the  coloring  that  it  takes  on  from  what 
is  to  follow  after.  And  this  is  equally  true  of  our 
most  casual  experiences.  The  auditory  or  visual  object 
that  we  happen  to  notice  and  immediately  afterwards 
ignore  is  apprehended  with  reference  to  the  possibility 
of  warranting  further  attention,  or  else  it  presents 
itself  as  an  intruder  that  is  to  be  excluded  in  order  that 
we  may  go  on  with  the  concern  of  the  moment.  All  ex- 
perience is  a  kind  of  intelligence,  a  control  of  present 
behavior  with  reference  to  future  adjustment.  To  be 
in  experience  at  all  is  to  have  the  future  operate  in  the 
present. 

This  reference  to  the  future  may  be  in  the  nature  of 
an  end  or  goal  that  controls  a  series  of  activities  or  it 
may  be  of  a  momentary  and  casual  kind.  In  any  case 
the  character  of  the  stimulus  changes  with  the  progress 


250 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


of  the  act.  The  book  on  the  table  must  become  succes- 
sively book-to-be-reached-for,  book-to-be-picked-up,  and 
book-to-be-opened,  unless  the  process  is  to  drop  back  to 
the  type  of  reflex.  This  development  of  the  stimulus 
gives  genuine  continuity,  since  every  moment  in  the 
process  comes  as  a  fulfilment  of  its  predecessor  and  as 
a  transition-point  to  its  successor.  In  a  purely  me- 
chanical act  response  follows  stimulus  like  the  succes- 
sive strokes  of  a  clock.  It  is  a  touch-and-go  affair; 
the  stimulus  presses  the  button  and  then  subsides, 
while  the  neural  organization  does  the  rest.  In 
conscious  behavior,  on  the  other  hand,  stimulus  and 
response  keep  step  with  each  other.  A  mere  suc- 
cession of  stimuli  would  reduce  conscious  behavior 
to  a  series  of  explosive  jerks,  on  the  principle 
of  the  gasoline  engine.  To  be  conscious  at  all  is  to 
duplicate  in  principle  the  agility  of  the  tight-rope  per- 
former, who  continuously  establishes  new  co-ordina- 
tions according  to  the  exigencies  of  the  moment  and 
with  constant  reference  to  the  controlling  considera- 
tion of  keeping  right  side  up.  The  sensory  stimulus 
provides  continuously  for  its  own  rehabilitation  or  ap- 
propriate transformation,  and  in  a  similar  way  the 
neural  organization  is  never  a  finished  thing,  but  is  in 
constant  process  of  readjustment  to  meet  the  demands 
of  an  adaptation  that  still  lies  in  the  future. 

It  is  this  relationship  of  present  response  to  the  re- 
sponse of  the  next  moment  that  constitutes  the  distinc- 
tive trait  of  conscious  behavior.  The  relatively  unor- 
ganized responses  of  the  present  moment,  in  becoming 
reflected  in  the  experienced  object,  reveal  their  outcome 


CONSCIOUSNESS  AND  PSYCHOLOGY      251 

or  meaning  before  they  have  become  overt,  and  thus 
provide  the  conditions  of  intelligent  action.  In  other 
words,  future  consequences  become  transformed  into  a 
stimulus  for  further  behavior.  We  are  confronted  here 
with  a  distinctive  mode  of  operation,  which  must  be 
properly  recognized,  if  we  are  to  give  a  consistent  and 
intelligent  account  of  conscious  behavior.  On  the  other 
hand,  if  we  refuse  to  recognize  the  advent  here  of  a 
new  category,  intelligence  becomes  an  anomaly  and 
mystery  deepens  into  contradiction.  Since  intelligence 
or  consciousness  must  be  provided  for  somehow,  we  are 
forced  back  upon  either  interac^onism  or  else  epiphe- 
nomenalism,  more  or  less  disguised  under  a  euphonious 
name,  such  as  psycho-physical  parallelism  or  the  double- 
aspect  theory.  That  is,  the  relation  of  stimulus  and 
response  is  either  reduced  to  plain  cause  and  effect  or 
else  is  rejected  altogether  and  supplanted  by  a  bare  con- 
comitance of  the  physical  and  mental  series.  In  either 
case  conscious  behavior  is  reduced  to  the  type  of  reflex 
action,  the  only  issue  between  the  two  doctrines  being 
the  question  whether  or  not  it  is  necessary  or  permissi- 
ble to  interpolate  mental  links  in  the  causal  chain. 

According  to  the  doctrine  of  parallelism,  conscious 
behavior  is  nothing  more  than  a  complicated  form  of 
reflex,  which  goes  on  without  any  interference  on  the 
part  of  mind  or  intelligence.  Intelligence  adds  noth- 
ing to  the  situation  except  itself;  it  carries  no  implica- 
tions or  new  significance  with  regard  to  conduct.  The 
psychic  correlate  is  permitted  to  tag  along,  but  the 
explanations  of  response  remain  the  same  in  kind  as 
they  were  before  they  reached  the  level  of  consciousness. 


S52 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


"  Mere  complexity  should  not  becloud  the  issue.  Every 
brain  process,  like  every  reflex  activity,  is  presumably 
the  result  of  physico-chemical  processes.  The  assump- 
tion of  a  mysterious  intuition  or  *  psychic  force '  adds 
nothing  to  the  mechanistic  explanation,  even  when  the 
latter  is  most  fragmentary.  The  interactionists  go  out 
of  their  way  unnecessarily  in  assuming  a  special  activ- 
ity of  consciousness  to  account  for  the  dislocation  of 
reactions  from  sensations.  The  nervous  organization 
suffices  to  explain  it.  Distant-stimuli  and  central 
stimuli  co-operate  to  bring  about  anticipatory  reac- 
tions ;  foresight  is  but  the  conscious  side  of  this  process. 
The  phenomenon  is  both  physical  and  mental."  ♦ 

The  passage  just  quoted  is  fairly  typical.  Since  the 
mental  is  an  aspect  or  concomitant  of  the  physical  it 
is  clearly  entitled  to  an  occasional  honorable  mention, 
but  the  fact  remains  that  the  explanation  of  behavior 
is  to  be  given  wholly  in  terms  of  neural  organization. 
The  mental  is  quite  literally  an  "  also  ran."  To  say 
that  a  physico-chemical  process  is  also  mental  is  of  no 
particular  significance  as  long  as  it  is  implied  that  the 
end  or  goal  of  the  process  plays  no  part  in  shaping  the 
course  of  events.  The  mental  simply  gives  dignity  to 
the  occasion,  like  the  sedan  chair  with  no  bottom,  in 
which  the  Irishman's  admirers,  according  to  James's 
story,  ran  him  along  to  the  place  of  banquet  and  which 
prompted  the  hero  to  remark :  "  Faith,  if  it  wasn't  for 
the  honor  of  the  thing,  I  might  as  well  have  come  on 
foot." 

It  is  this  empty  show  of  respect  which  the  interac- 

♦  H,  C.  Warren.  Ptyehdogical  Review,  Vol.  XXI.  Page  93. 


CONSCIOUSNESS  AND  PSYCHOLOGY      253 

tionists  seek  to  avoid  when  they  make  the  mental  a  dis- 
tinct link  in  the  causal  sequence.  The  physical  first 
causes  the  mental,  and  the  mental  in  turn  brings  about 
a  change  in  the  physical.  In  this  way  a  certain  im- 
portance is  indeed  secured  to  mental  facts,  but  it  ap- 
pears that,  so  far  as  purposive  action  is  concerned,  we 
are  no  better  off  than  we  were  before.  The  mental  is 
simply  another  kind  of  cause;  it  has  as  little  option 
regarding  its  physical  eff^ect  as  the  physical  cause  has 
with  regard  to  its  mental  eff^ect.  Non-mechanical  be- 
havior is  again  ruled  out,  or  else  a  vain  attempt  is  made 
to  secure  a  place  for  it  through  the  introduction  of  an 
independent  psychic  agency. 

It  is  true,  indeed,  that  we  are  under  no  antecedent 
obligation  to  maintain  the  existence  of  an  activity  that 
is  not  entirely  reducible  to  the  type  of  everyday  cause 
and  eff^ect.*  But  neither  does  scientific  zeal  and  incor- 
ruptibility require  us  to  do  violence  to  the  facts  in  order 
to  secure  this  uniformity  of  type.  Not  to  speak  at  all 
of  the  difficulties  inherent  in  this  dualism,  it  seems  un- 
deniable that  some  facts  persistently  refuse  to  conform 
to  the  type  of  mechanism,  unless  they  are  previously 
clubbed  into  submission.  Foresight  and  the  sense  of 
obligation,  for  example,  must  learn  to  regard  them- 
selves as  nothing  more  than  an  interesting  indication 
of  the  way  in  which  the  neural  machinery  is  operating 
before  they  will  fit  into  the  scheme.  And  similarly  the 
progress  of  an  argument  is  no  way  controlled  or  di- 
rected by  the  end  in  view,  or  by'considerations  of  logical 
coherence,  but  by  the  impact  of  causation.  Ideas  lose 
their  power  to  guide  conduct  by  prevision  of  the  fu- 


254 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


ture,  and  truth  and  error  consequently  lose  their  sig- 
nificance, save  perhaps  as  manifestations  of  cerebral 
operations.  Since  reasoning  involves  association,  it 
must  be  reducible  to  bare  association;  the  sequence  of 
the  process  is  just  sequence  and  nothing  more.  A 
description  of  this  kind  is  on  a  par  with  the  celebrated 
opinion  that  violin  music  is  just  a  case  of  scraping 
horse-hair  on  catgut.  Everything  that  is  distinctive  in 
the  facts  is  left  out  of  account,  and  we  are  forced  to 
the  conclusion  that  no  conclusion  has  any  logical  sig- 
nificance or  value. 

In  the  end  these  difficulties,  and  in  fact  most  of  our 
philosophic  ills,  may  be  traced  back  to  the  prejudice 
that  experience  or  knowing  is  a  process  in  which  the 
objects  concerned  do  not  participate  and  have  no  share. 
This  assumption  commits  us  at  once  to  various  corol- 
laries and  thus  breeds  a  set  of  abstraction^  that  pass 
themselves  off  as  entities  and  add  themselves  to  the  world 
of  our  experience  as  demonstrable  facts.   In  philosophy, 
as  in  the  financial  world,  there  is  a  constant  temptation 
to  do  business  on  a  basis  of  fictitious  capitalization. 
Our    abstract    physico-chemical   processes,   with   their 
correlates,  such  as  passive,  independent  objects,  souls, 
minds,  or  absolutes,  do  not  represent  actual  working 
capital,  but  watered  stock,  and  their  inevitable  tend- 
ency is  to  convert  the  legitimate  business  of  philosophy 
into  a  campaign  of  exploitation,  which  is  none  the  less 
exploitation  because  it  is  frequently  done  in  the  inter- 
ests of  what  are  supposed  to  be  the  spiritual  values  of 
man.     A  careful  inventory  of  our  assets  brings  to  light 
no  such  entities  as  those  which  have  been  placed  to  our 


CONSCIOUSNESS  AND  PSYCHOLOGY      255 

credit.  We  do  not  find  body  and  object  and  conscious- 
ness, but  only  body  and  object.  We  do  not  find  ob- 
jects that  remain  indifferent  to  the  experiential  proc- 
ess, but  rather  objects  that  exhibit  a  flexibility  and 
mobility  which  defy  all  description.  We  do  not  find  a 
self-sufficient  environment  or  absolute  to  which  intelli- 
gence must  needs  adjust  itself,  but  an  environment  that 
is  at  odds  with  itself  and  struggling  in  the  throes  of  a 
reconstruction.  The  process  of  intelligence  is  some- 
thing that  goes  on,  not  in  our  minds,  but  in  things ;  it 
is  not  photographic,  but  creative.  From  the  simplest 
perception  to  the  most  ideal  aspiration  or  the  wildest 
hallucination,  our  human  experience  is  reality  engaged 
in  the  guidance  or  control  of  behavior.  Things  undergo 
a  change  in  becoming  experienced,  but  the  change  con- 
sists in  a  doing,  in  the  assumption  of  a  certain  task  or 
duty.  The  experiential  object  hence  varies  with  the 
response;  the  situation  and  the  motor  activity  fit  to- 
gether like  the  sections  of  a  broken  bowl. 

The  bearing  of  this  standpoint  on  the  interpretation 
of  psychology  is  readily  apparent.  If  it  be  granted 
that  consciousness  is  just  a  name  for  behavior  that  is 
guided  by  the  results  of  acts  not  yet  performed  but  re- 
flected beforehand  in  the  objects  of  experience,  it 
follows  that  this  behavior  is  the  peculiar  subject- 
matter  of  psychology.  It  is  only  by  reference  to 
behavior  that  a  distinctive  field  can  be  marked  off 
for  psychological  enterprise.  When  we  say  that 
the  flame  is  hot,  the  stone  hard,  and  the  ice  cold  and 
slippery,  we  are  describing  objects  and  nothing  more. 
These  qualities  are,  indeed,  anticipations  of  future  pos- 


256 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


sibilities,  but  this  means  simply  that  the  objects  are 
described  in  terms  of  their  properties  or  capacities  as 
stimuli  of  the  organism.     Such  an  account  leaves  out 
of  consideration  certain  changes  which  things  undergo 
when   they   exercise    the    function    of    controlling   or 
directing  changes  in  the  adjustment  of  the  body.     A 
quality,  such  as  •"  sharp  "  or  "  hot,"  is  not  mental  or 
constituted  by  consciousness,  but  the  function  of  the 
quality  in  giving  direction  to  behavior  through  certain 
changes    which    it    undergoes    is    consciousness.      The 
changes  that  take  place  in  things  as  a  result  of  asso- 
ciation, attention,  or  memory,  are  changes  that  have 
no  significance,  save  with  regard  to  their  function  as 
stimuli  to  new  adjustments.     Psychology,  therefore, 
is  properly  a  study  of  the  conditions  which  determine 
the  change  or  development  of  stimuli;  more  specifically 
it  is  a  study  of  the  conditions  which  govern  such  proc- 
esses as  those  by  which  problems  are  solved,  lessons  are 
memorized,  habits  and  attitudes  are  built  up,  and  de- 
cisions are  reached.     To  call  such  study  "applied** 
psychology  is  to  misunderstand  the  proper  scope  and 
purpose  of  the  subject.     Psychology  frequently  has 
occasion  to  draw  extensively  upon  physics  and  physi- 
ology, but  it  has  its  own  problem  and  its  own  method 
of  procedure. 

That  this  view  of  conscious  behavior  should  involve 
an  extensive  reinterpretation  of  familiar  facts  is  alto- 
gether natural  and  inevitable.  If  consciousness  is  a 
form  of  control,  the  question,  for  example,  what  is 
**  in "  consciousness  and  what  is  not  must  be  inter- 
preted with  reference  to  this  function  of  control.    In  a 


CONSCIOUSNESS  AND  PSYCHOLOGY      257 

sense  we  perceive  many  things  to  which  we  are  not  pay- 
ing attention,  such  as  the  light  in  the  room  or  the 
familiar  chairs  and  bookcases.     These  are  perceived 
**  marginally,"  as  we  say,  in  the  sense  that  the  presence 
of  these  objects  affects  the  total  adjustment  of  the 
moment  in  such  a  way  that  the  experience  would  be- 
come a  clue  to  these  objects  if  they  were  withdrawn. 
And  similarly  we  may  speak  of  marginal  sensations  of 
strain  or  movement,  to  indicate  possible  clues  to  certain 
bodily  activities  which  are  factors  in  the  process.  These 
marginal  perceptions  or  images  are  not  actual  exist- 
ences, but  are  symbols  and  nothing  more.    The  signifi- 
cance of  these  symbols  is  that  they  point  to  certain 
conditions  by  which  the  experiences  in  question   are 
determined.     Thus  the  question  whether  a  given  ex- 
perience involves  certain  "  sensations  "  is  just  a  ques- 
tion  whether    certain    bodily    or   extra-bodily    condi- 
tions   are   involved   in   the   experience.      If   this   ref- 
erence to  conditions  is  ignored  and  experience  is  ex- 
plained in  terms  of  sensory  material  that  blends  and 
fuses    and    otherwise   disposes    itself,   the    explanation 
is  no  longer  science  but  sleight-of-hand.     Psychology 
has  no  proper  concern  with  such  mythical  constitu- 
ents of  consciousness;  its  business  is  with  things  as 
related  to  conduct,  which  is  to  say  that  psychology 
is  a  science  of  behavior, 

n 

According  to  the  standpoint  set  forth  in  the  pre- 
ceding discussion,  the  key  to  a  consistent  and  fruitful 
interpretation  of  consciousness  and  psychology  lies  in 


258 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


behavior.  If  we  turn  now  to  the  psychology  of  intro- 
spection, which  has  been  dominant  so  many  years,  we 
find  a  standpoint  and  mode  of  procedure  which,  on  the 
surface  at  least,  is  of  a  radically  different  kind.  It 
behooves  us,  therefore,  to  consider  this  standpoint  in 
some  detail  in  order  to  justify  the  attempt  to  reinter- 
pret and  "  evaluate  "  it  in  the  light  of  our  own  doc- 
trine. 

The  point  of  departure  for  introspective  psychology 
IS  to  be  found,  so  it  seems,  not  in  the  facts  of  behavior, 
but  in  the  distinction  between  focal  and  marginal  ex- 
perience. It  is  on  this  distinction  that  the  introspec- 
tive psychologist  bases  the  attempt  to  give  a  psycho- 
logical analysis  and  description  of  the  contents  of 
experience.  To  analyze  and  describe  the  facts  of  con- 
sciousness is  to  bring  the  marginal  constituents  of 
experience  into  the  white  light  of  attention.  Analysis 
and  description  are  possible  just  because  experience 
is  so  largely  a  welter  of  elements  that  disguise  their 
identity  and  character.  In  some  way  these  unrecog- 
nized and  unidentified  elements  are  constituents  of  the 
total  experience.  To  borrow  the  language  of  a  writer 
quoted  by  James,  "  However  deeply  we  may  suppose 
the  attention  to  be  engaged  by  any  thought,  any  con- 
siderable alteration  of  the  surrounding  phenomena 
would  still  be  perceived;  the  most  abstruse  demonstra- 
tion in  this  room  would  not  prevent  a  listener,  how- 
ever absorbed,  from  noticing  the  sudden  extinction  of 
the  lights."*  Or,  as  James  remarks:  "It  is  just  like 
the  overtones  in  music.  Diiferent  instruments  give  the 
*  Principles  of  Psychology,  I,  p.  241,  note. 


CONSCIOUSNESS  AND  PSYCHOLOGY      259 

*same  note,*  namely,  various  upper  harmonics  of  it 
which  differ  from  one  instrument  to  another.  They  are 
not  separately  heard  by  the  ear;  they  blend  with  the 
fundamental  note  and  suffuse  it,  and  alter  it."  *  Let 
the  attention  be  directed  to  these  overtones,  however, 
and  they  at  once  detach  themselves  from  their  surround- 
ings and  step  forth  into  the  light  of  day.  Even  so  the 
ticking  of  the  clock  may  pass  unnoticed  in  the  sense 
that  it  is  an  undiscriminated  element  in  the  background 
of  our  consciousness ;  but  if  the  ticking  comes  to  a  sud- 
den stop,  the  feeling  of  a  void  in  our  consciousness  pro- 
claims the  fact  that  something  has  gone  out  from  it. 

The  observation  and  description  of  the  facts  of  con- 
sciousness, then,  is  based  directly  on  the  fact  that  ex- 
perience, as  the  psychologist  deals  with  it,  possesses  a 
focus  and  margin.  Nature  as  conceived  by  the  physical 
sciences  presents  no  such  distinction.  The  facts  are 
what  they  are,  and  their  character  as  focal  or  marginal, 
as  clear  or  obscure,  depends  altogether  upon  their  re- 
lation to  an  intelligence.  Or  we  may  say  that  if  the 
facts  of  experience  were  always  focal  and  never  mar- 
ginal, it  would  never  occur  to  us  to  speak  of  conscious- 
ness as  we  do  at  present.  As  long  as  we  confine 
ourselves  to  a  given  color,  shape  or  temperature,  as 
experienced  focally,  we  are  not  dealing  with  conscious- 
ness, but  with  objects.  An  analysis  of  such  facts  that 
does  not  bring  in  the  marginal  is  not  an  analysis  of 
consciousness,  but  an  analysis  of  physical  reality.  Even 
if  we  consider  non-physical  objects,  such  as  mathe- 
matical or  economic  concepts,  we  find  that  our  analysis 

♦  /6W.,  p.  258. 


260 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


is  not  psychological  as  long  as  the  marginal  is  left  out. 
The  consideration  of  the  margin,  however,  brings  us 
into  the  presence  of  facts  which  are  of  a  distinctive 
kind  and  which  warrant  a  new  science.  Let  the  margin 
be  eliminated  and  psychology  disappears  at  the  same 
time. 

The  psychological  doctrine  of  focus  and  margin, 
then,  is  a  matter  of  fundamental  importance.  On  the 
interpretation  of  this  doctrine  depend  our  systems  of 
psychology  and  of  philosophy.  What,  then,  is  meant 
by  focus  and  margin?  If  we  turn  to  our  psychologies, 
we  seem  to  be  confronted  once  more  with  something 
that  everybody  knows  and  nobody  can  define.  But 
since  we  have  to  do  with  a  distinction,  the  obligation  to 
differentiate  cannot  be  wholly  ignored.  Consciousness 
is  sometimes  likened  to  a  visual  field  and  sometimes  to 
the  waves  of  the  sea.  Like  the  visual  field  it  has  a  fore- 
ground and  a  background,  a  near  and  a  remote,  a 
center  and  a  margin  or  periphery.  The  contents  of 
consciousness  are  vivid  or  clear  in  the  center  of  this, 
field  and  fade  away  into  vagueness  or  obscureness  in 
proportion  to  their  approach  to  the  periphery.  Or,  to 
take  the  other  comparison,  the  focus  may  be  repre- 
sented by  the  crest  of  a  wave  and  the  margin  by  what  we 
may  call  its  base.  This  illustration  has  the  advantage 
that  it  indicates  the  difference  between  higher  and  lower 
degrees  of  concentration.  As  concentration  increases, 
the  crest  of  the  wave  rises  higher  and  its  width 
decreases,  while  the  reverse  is  true  where  the  concentra- 
tion of  attention  is  less  intense.  All  consciousness  pos- 
sesses  the  distinction  of  focus   and  margin   in   some 


CONSCIOUSNESS  AND  PSYCHOLOGY      261 

degree;  however  much  we  may  be  absorbed  in  an  ob- 
ject or  topic,  there  is  always  an  indirect  mental  vision 
that  informs  us  of  other  facts,  which  for  the  time  being 
are  in  the  background  of  our  consciousness. 

For  purposes  of  description  a  metaphor  is  at  best  a 
clumsy  device.  It  has  a  tendency  to  substitute  itself 
for  the  thing  to  be  described  and  thus  to  conceal  its 
limitations  and  inaccuracies.  The  present  case  is  no 
exception.  I  am  forced  to  think  that  the  visual  field  in 
particular  is  a  thoroughly  vicious  metaphor  when  em- 
ployed to  body  forth  the  distinction  of  focus  and 
margin.  Whatever  this  distinction  may  in  the  end  turn 
out  to  be,  it  is  not  such  as  this  comparison  would  lead 
one  to  suppose.  Objects  seen  in  indirect  vision  appear 
obscure  and  blurred  precisely  because  they  are  in  the 
focus  of  consciousness.  We  get  pretty  much  the  same 
sort  of  obscureness  or  blur  on  a  printed  page  when  we 
look  at  it  in  indirect  vision  as  we  do  when  we  look  at 
it  from  a  distance  that  is  just  too  great  to  make  out 
the  words  or  characters.  What  the  illustration  shows 
is  that  things  look  different  according  as  the  circum- 
stances under  which  we  see  them  are  different,  but  what 
bearing  this  has  on  marginal  consciousness  is  not  at  all 
obvious  to  an  unsophisticated  intelligence. 

When  we  speak  of  a  focus  and  margin  in  conscious- 
ness, we  are  presumably  dealing  with  conscious  fact. 
Now  this  illustration  of  the  visual  field  does  not  repre- 
sent conscious  fact.  Ordinary  perception  carries  with 
it  no  sense  of  obscureness  at  all,  and  when  it  does  we 
have  exactly  the  same  kind  of  situation  as  when  an 
object  is  too  distant  or  in  some  other  way  inaccessible 


»l 


262 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


to  satisfactory  perception.  That  is,  the  object  per- 
ceived is  in  the  *  focus '  and  not  in  the  margin.  The 
obscureness  of  objects  when  seen  with  the  margin  of  the 
retina  has  no  more  to  do  with  the  margin  of  conscious- 
ness than  the  obscureness  caused  by  an  attack  of  diz- 
ziness or  by  a  morning  fog. 

It  will  be  said,  perhaps,  that  consciousness  may  be 
unclear  even  though  there  be  no  sense  of  unclearness, 
that  there  is  such  a  thing  as  intrinsic  clearness,  quite 
apart  from  obstacles  and  problems.  In  other  words, 
the  same  sensation  is  capable  of  realizing  various  de- 
grees of  clearness.  It  is  not  at  all  obvious,  however, 
why  the  different  experiences  that  are  concerned  in  such 
a  comparison  should  be  called  the  same  sensation.  As 
long  as  we  abstract  from  objective  reference,  each  sen- 
sation is  just  what  it  is  and  there  is  no  opportunity  to 
make  comparisons  on  the  basis  of  clearness.  A  sensa- 
tion as  such — if  we  are  bound  to  speak  of  sensations 
— can  by  no  possibility  be  an  obscure  sensation,  for  the 
trait  that  we  call  obscureness  or  vagueness  constitutes 
the  intrinsic  being  of  that  sensation.  If  we  permit  our- 
selves to  speak  of  clearness  at  all,  we  should  rather  say 
that  it  possesses  a  maximum  of  clearness,  since  it  has 
managed  to  express  or  present  its  whole  nature  with 
not  one  trait  or  feature  lacking.  What  more  could  be 
demanded,  in  the  way  of  clearness,  of  any  conscious 
fact  than  that  it  should  body  forth  every  detail  that  it 
possesses? 

If  sensations  or  states  of  consciousness  possess  de- 
grees of  clearness,  it  seems  to  follow  that  we  may 
scrutinize  them  for  the  purpose  of  discovering  char- 


CONSCIOUSNESS  AND  PSYCHOLOGY      263 

acteristics  that  were  present  though  scarcely  perceived, 
in  much  the  same  way  that  the  polishing  of  old  furni- 
ture brings  out  the  grain  in  the  wood.  But  such  a 
parallel,  I  submit,  is  plain  nonsense.  The  supposition 
that  consciousness  is  something  that  in  due  time  and 
with  good  fortune  may  attain  consciousness  is  too  ab- 
surd for  discussion,  even  though  it  is  a  supposition  that 
plays  a  considerable  role  in  present-day  psychology. 

The  purpose  of  the  discussion,  up  to  this  point,  has 
not  been  to  deny  the  validity  of  the  distinction  between 
focus  and  margin,  but  to  insist  upon  the  necessity  of 
reconsidering  the  meaning  of  this  distinction,  if  we  are 
to  attain  to  a  workable  definition  of  consciousness  and 
a  fruitful  or  even  intelligible  conception  of  the  prob- 
lem of  psychology.     I  have  endeavored  to  show,  in  the 
first  place,  that  the  doctrine  of  focus  and  margin  in- 
volves the  raison  d'etre  of  psychology.     Apart  from 
this  doctrine  we  have  no  task  or  problem  that  psy- 
chology can  claim  as  its  distinctive  possession.     The 
analysis  of  what  is  in  the  focus  of  consciousness  is  ade- 
quately provided  for  in  the  other  sciences;  it  is  only 
with  the  introduction  of  what  is  called  the  margin  that 
an  enterprise  of  a  different  kind  becomes  necessary. 
But,  secondly,  this  distinction  of  focus  and  margin  can- 
not be  drawn  on  the  basis  of  the  experienced  contrast 
between  clearness  and  obscureness.    The  very  fact  that 
anything  is  experienced  as  obscure  means  that  it  is  an 
object  of  attention,  or,  in  other  words,  that  it  is  in  the 
focus  of  consciousness  and  not  in  the  margin.     The 
comparison  of  focus  and  margin  with  direct  and  indi- 
rect vision  is  misleading,  because  it  suggests  that  ex- 


264 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


periences  are  marginal  in  proportion  as  they  are  felt 
as  obscure.  And,  thirdly,  if  we  undertake  to  distin- 
guish between  focus  and  margin  on  the  basis  of  a  dif- 
ference in  clearness  or  vividness  of  which  no  note  is 
taken  at  the  time,  we  encounter  the  difficulty  that  ex- 
perience or  consciousness,  taken  abstractly,  does  not 
admit  of  such  variations  in  degree,  and  so  this  criterion 
likewise  goes  by  the  board. 

The  situation  is  indeed  peculiar.  That  there  is  a 
realm  of  psychological  fact  is  universally  conceded.  As 
a  consequence  of  this  conviction  a  great  body  of  fact 
and  of  doctrine  has  been  built  up.  It  would  be  folly 
to  deny  either  the  distinctiveness  or  the  significance  of 
this  achievement.  And  yet  James's  description  of  psy- 
chology as  "  a  string  of  raw  facts ;  a  little  gossip  and 
wrangle  about  opinions;  a  little  classification  and  gen- 
eralization on  the  mere  descriptive  level ;  a  strong  preju- 
dice that  we  have  states  of  mind  and  that  our  brain  con- 
ditions them,"  ♦  is  not  wholly  untrue  even  today.  It  is 
even  possible  for  a  present-day  critic  to  outdo  James 
and  maintain  that  the  legitimacy  of  psychology  as  a 
separate  inquiry  is  a  matter  of  faith  rather  than  of 
sight.  The  *  raw  facts '  of  which  James  speaks  resolve 
themselves  into  physical  and  physiological  material  on 
the  one  hand  and  metaphysical  dogmas  on  the  other; 
the  gossip  and  wrangle  are  largely  over  fictitious  prob- 
lems; the  classifications  and  generalizations  as  a  rule 
involve  trespassing  on  other  fields;  the  prejudice  that 
we  have  states  of  mind  has  less  standing-ground  today 
than  it  had  twenty  years  ago.     In  other  words,  there 

*  Psychology.    Briefer  Course.    P.  468. 


CONSCIOUSNESS  AND  PSYCHOLOGY      265 

is  still  plausible  ground  for  James's  pessimistic  com- 
ment: "This  is  no  science,  it  is  only  the  hope  of  a 
science."  A  situation  such  as  this  carries  with  it  the 
insistent  suggestion  that  the  trouble  lies,  not  primarily 
in  the  nature  of  the  subject-matter,  but  in  our  con- 
ception of  the  problem.  "The  matter  of  a  science," 
as  James  says,  "  is  with  us."  And  if  the  distinction 
of  focus  and  margin  constitutes  the  starting-point  and 
justification  for  a  science  of  psychology,  a  better  un- 
derstanding of  this  distinction  will  mean  a  more  ade- 
quate appreciation  of  the  problem  with  which  psy- 
chology has  to  deal. 

As  a  starting-point  for  a  reconsideration  of  focus 
and  margin,  we  may  take  those  experiences  in  which  the 
distinction  of  clearness  and  obscureness  is  presented  as 
an  experienced  fact.    Let  us  then  turn  once  more  to  the 
familiar  illustration  of  the  visual  field.    "  When  we  look 
at  a  printed  page,  there  is  always  some  one  portion 
of  it,  perhaps  a  word,  which  we  see  more  clearly  than 
we  do  the  rest ;  and  out  beyond  the  margin  of  the  page 
we  are  still  conscious  of  objects  which  we  see  only  in 
a  very  imperfect  way."  *     That  is,  we  appreciate  the 
distinction  between  what  lies  in  the  center  of  our  visual 
field  and  what  is  more  remote,  just  because  in  this  ex- 
periment we  are  trying  to  see  what  lies  beyond  the 
center  without  turning  our  eyes  in  that  direction.    We 
set  ourselves  the  task  of  seeing  what  is  on  the  page, 
and  at  the  same  time  we  interpose  an  artificial  obstacle. 
Hence  the  sense  of  eff'ort,  and  the  contrast  between 
what  is  dear  and  what  is  obscure.    The  present  experi- 

•Angell,  Psychology,  p.   65. 


zee 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


ence  is  obscure,  not  inherently,  but  only  with  reference 
to  a  certain  problem  or  question.  It  is  inadequate  as 
an  anticipation  of  further  experience.  The  contrast 
between  clear  and  obscure  is  created  by  our  attempt  to 
overcome  the  difficulty,  and  is  therefore  absent  from 
ordinary,  unobstructed  visual  perception. 

The  situation  described  in  the  following  familiar 
quotation  from  James  is  an  illustration  of  the  same 
thing:  **  Suppose  we  try  to  recall  a  forgotten  name. 
The  state  of  our  consciousness  is  peculiar.  There  is 
a  gap  therein;  but  no  mere  gap.  It  is  a  gap  that  is 
intensely  active.  A  sort  of  wraith  of  the  name  is  in 
it,  beckoning  us  in  a  given  direction,  making  us  at 
moments  tingle  with  the  sense  of  our  closeness,  and 
then  letting  us  sink  back  without  the  longed-for  term."* 

*  I  met  this  man  on  the  train,  and  later  at  the  recep- 
tion; but  what  is  his  name?'  The  struggle  rends  our 
consciousness  in  twain.  The  occasions  of  our  meeting, 
his  appearance,  his  conversation,  are  solid  fact,  yet  all 
suffused  with  the  pervasive,  evanscent  "  wraith  "  that 
tantalizes  us  with  glimpses  which  half  reveal  and  half 
conceal  the  name  we  seek  to  grasp. 

To  account  for  such  experiences  simply  in  terms  of 
half-submerged  "  sensations  "  and  "  images  "  is  to  do 
violence  to  all  the  requirements  for  clear  thinking.  If 
we  rule  out  explanations  of  this  kind,  we  are  evidently 
forced  to  the  conclusion  that  these  experiences  are  ob- 
scure, not  in  themselves  or  in  the  abstract,  but  with 
reference  to  the  function  of  putting  us  in  possession 
of  the  name  to  which  they  are  inadequate  clues.    It  is 

•  Psychology,  Vol.  I,  p.  251. 


CONSCIOUSNESS  AND  PSYCHOLOGY      267 

the  subsequent,  satisfactory  experience  of  the  name 
which  furnishes  our  standard  for  clearness;  in  other 
words,  the  implications  of  obscureness  are  of  a  func- 
tional, and  not  of  a  static  or  structural,  kind.     The 
marginal  character  of  an  experience  is  simply  a  refer- 
ence to  its  function  as  a  clue  or  cue  to  some  further  ex- 
perience, i.e.,  a  reference  to  its  character  as  a  changing 
stimulus.    Or  we  may  say  that  the  distinction  between 
focus  and  margin  is  just  another  aspect  of  the  distinc- 
tion between  the  conditions  for  further  activity  and  the 
incompleteness    which    leads    to    further    adjustment. 
The  transfer  of  the  future  into  the  present  gives  us  a 
fact,  here  and  now,  and  in  this  respect  the  experience  is 
entirely  focal  in  character,  and  as  such  it  is  subject- 
matter  for  the  various  sciences.     Whatever  the  nature 
of  the  experience,  it  is  just  what  it  is,  and  not  some- 
thing else.     V^ith   respect  to  the  further  experience, 
however,  which  it  conditions  or  for  which  it  prepares 
the  way,  the  present  experience  is  entirely  marginal, 
i.e.,  in  its  character  as  a  changing  stimulus  it  is  sub- 
ject-matter for  psychology.     The  distinction  of  focus 
and  margin,  then,  is  based  ultimately  upon  the  func- 
tion of  experience  in  the  control  of  behavior.     The 
given  situation  is  a  present  fact  and  is  in  functional 
change;  or,  in   terms   of   our   present   discussion,   it 
has  both  a  focus  and  a  margin.     As  present  fact  it 
is  a  reality  which  requires  recognition  in  the  form  of 
adjustment;  as  in  functional  change  it  provides  oppor- 
tunity for  bringing  the  adjustment  to  fruition.  That  is, 
the  experience  both  sets  a  task  or  makes  a  demand  and 
it  points  the  way.    The  distinction  is  a  distinction  of 


268 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


function,  not  of  static  existence,  and  it  is  this  distinction 
which  is  represented  by  the  contrast  of  focus  and 
margin. 

If  we  compare  this  interpretation  of  focus  and  mar- 
gin with  that  of  traditional  psychology,  we  find  that 
the  latter  construes  the  relation  of  the  present  to  the 
future  experience  wholly  in  static  terms,  the  functional 
relation  being  left  out  of  account.  The  later  experience 
is  read  back  into  its  predecessor  in  the  form  of  dim  or 
marginal  images,  which  need  but  show  themselves  more 
completely  to  make  the  two  identical.  If  these  sensa- 
tions were  intended  only  as  symbols  of  a  functional 
relationship,  it  would  perhaps  be  scarcely  worth  while 
to  enter  a  protest  against  them.  But  when  the  func- 
tional relationship  is  quite  overlooked,  the  explanation 
that  is  given  becomes  exceedingly  dubious.  The  ticking 
of  the  clock,  for  example,  that  is  present,  though  un- 
noticed, the  overtones  of  the  note  that  suffuse  the  whole 
without  diverting  attention  to  their  individual  quali- 
ties,— in  what  precise  way  are  facts  of  this  kind  con- 
cerned in  the  description  of  the  experience  which  they 
modify?  A  study  of  the  clock  or  of  the  overtones 
can  hardly  pass  as  an  analysis  of  consciousness;  it  is 
too  obviously  an  affair  of  physics.  Such  a  study  be- 
comes merely  an  excuse  for  repeating  the  analyses  of 
physics  and  reading  them  oflF  in  terms  of  sensations 
and  images.  Moreover,  the  transfer  of  all  this  mate- 
rial to  consciousness  looks  suspiciously  like  a  transac- 
tion in  mental  chemistry.  Where,  then,  is  psychology 
to  gain  a  foothold?  What  is  the  meaning  of  these  un- 
canny sensations  and  images,  which  nobody  experi- 


CONSCIOUSNESS  AND  PSYCHOLOGY      269 

ences,  unless  it  be  their  character  as  symbols  of 
adjustment?  They  have  no  legitimate  status,  and  psy- 
chology, by  consequence,  has  no  legitimate  problem, 
except  in  so  far  as  they  represent  those  possible  acts 
of  adaptation  which  are  the  sole  and  proper  concern 

of  psychology. 

It  remains  to  point  out  briefly  the  bearing  of  these 
results  on  what  is  called  "  the  method  of  introspection." 
We  are  sometimes  assured  that  introspection  has  dis- 
carded the  belief  in  a  separate  mental  stuff  or  subject- 
matter,  but  there  is  ground  for  the  suspicion  that  such 
protestations  are  made  in  the  same  spirit  that  we  affirm 
our  belief  in  the  Ten  Commandments  or  the  Golden 
Rule,  with  no  thought  of  being  taken  seriously.    At  all 
events,  without  a  literal  "  looking  within  "  it  seems  to 
become  exceedingly  difficult  to  differentiate  introspec- 
tion  from  ordinary  observation  as  practised  in  the 
other  sciences.     The  reason  for  this  difficulty  is  that 
there  is  nothing  left  in  introspection  by  which  it  can 
be  differentiated.     The  term  introspection   properly 
designates,  not  a  method  but  a  problem ;  the  problem, 
namely,  of  interpreting  given  facts  with  reference  to 
their  function  in  the  control  of  behavior.     If  psy- 
chology is  to  justify  its  claim  to  the  status  of  a  science, 
it  is  in  duty  bound  to  secure  for  itself  both  an  objective 
criterion  for  the  adjudication  of  disputes  which  other- 
wise are  of  necessity  interminable,  and  a  subject-matter 
that  is  not  simply  a  heritage  of  metaphysical  prejudice, 
but  a  realm  of  fact  that  is  attested  by  everyday  obser- 
vation and  experience. 


270 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


m 


Within  recent  years  the  doctrine  that  psychology 
is  a  science  of  behavior  has  acquired  a  certain  promi- 
nence. It  is  presupposed,  of  course,  that  the  behavior 
with  which  psychology  is  concerned  is  of  a  distinctive 
sort ;  but  the  differentia  is  unfortunately  the  very  thing 
that  the  "  behaviorist "  has  hitherto  left  out  of  ac- 
count. In  his  revolt  against  introspectionism,  which  has 
been  accustomed  to  give  to  its  subject-matter  a  sub- 
jectivistic  and  "psychic"  interpretation,  he  goes  to 
the  other  extreme  and  relies  on  behavior  pure  and  sim- 
ple. Being  without  a  serviceable  differentia,  he  is 
unable  to  mark  off  the  field  of  psychology  from  con- 
tiguous territory.  The  selection  of  certain  problems 
within  the  general  range  of  behavior,  with  no  recogni- 
tion of  any  distinctive  trait  to  guide  and  justify  the 
selection,  is  hardly  enough  to  warrant  a  new  science. 
Even  an  arbitrary  principle  of  selection  is  better  than 
none,  and  it  would,  therefore,  be  quite  as  reasonable 
to  subdivide  the  field  of  botany  in  the  interests  of  a 
new  science,  and  group  together  for  separate  botanical 
study  those  flowers  which  have  enabled  poets  to  give 
symbolic  expression  to  the  beauty  of  women. 

That  the  principle  of  selection  is,  in  the  end,  the 
ability  to  modify  behavior  through  the  anticipation  of 
possible  consequences,  appears  from  the  fact  that  the 
category  of  stimulus  and  response  is  otherwise  found 
to  be  unworkable.  It  is  true  that  in  the  simpler  forms 
of  behavior  stimulus  and  response  may  be  correlated 
without  practical  difficulty.  But  when  we  deal  with 
what  has  been  called  "delayed  overt  response,"  the 


CONSCIOUSNESS  AND  PSYCHOLOGY      271 

matter  becomes  more  complicated  and  the  theoretical 
difficulty  becomes  more  prominent.     The  behaviorist 
would  not  seriously  undertake  to   record  everything 
that  happens  between  stimulus  and  response.    He  pro- 
ceeds selectively,  taking  the  relation  of  stimulus  and 
response  as  his  clue.     He  is  properly  interested  in  the 
movements  which  result  from  the  application  of  the 
stimulus  only  in  so  far  as  they  constitute  response. 
Otherwise  his  study  is  not  a  study  of  behavior,  but  a 
study  of  movements.    But  when  does  a  movement  con- 
stitute a  response?    Do  we  label  as  stimulus  the  spoken 
word  which  results  in  overt  action  a  week  later,  or  the 
visual  perception  which  sets  a  complicated  and  long- 
drawn-out  problem,  for  no  other  reason  than  that  it 
appears  somewhere  as  an  antecedent  in  the  causal  chain 
of  events?    If  so,  there  is  no  obvious  reason  why  the 
event  which  occurred  just  before  or  immediately  after 
the  soirdisant  stimulus  should  not  be  regarded  as  the 
true  stimulus.     Unless  a  satisfactory  reason  is  forth- 
coming, it  would  seem  better  to  substitute  cause  and 
effect  for  stimulus  and  response  and  to  drop  the  term 
behavior  from  our  vocabulary.     Psychology  then  be- 
comes a  study  of  certain  causal  relationships,  but  is 
still  without  a  principle  for  the  selection  of  those  causal 
events  which  are  supposed  to  constitute  its  peculiar 

subject-matter. 

Even  if  we  manage  to  become  reconciled  to  this  sit- 
uation, however,  our  troubles  are  not  yet  at  an  end. 
There  stQl  remains  the  difficulty  in  certain  cases  of 
showing  that  the  event  which  is  selected  as  stimulus 
or  cause  bears  any  significant  relationship  to  the  event 


272 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


which  figures  in  our  scheme  as  the  response.  The 
stimulus  is  supposed  to  have  a  causal  connection  with 
the  response,  but  how  are  we  to  know  that  this  is  the 
fact?  How  are  we  to  know  that  the  engineer  who 
solves  a  problem  for  me  at  mj  request  might  not  have 
done  so  anyway  ?  No  behaviorist  can  possibly  show  that 
the  air  waves  set  in  motion  by  my  vocalization  were  an 
indispensable  stimulus.  We  doubtless  believe  that  the 
spoken  word  was  in  fact  the  spark  which  lit  the  fuse 
and  finally  exploded  the  mine,  but  this  belief  involves 
a  complication  of  causes  which  it  is  wholly  beyond 
our  power  to  control  or  to  verify. 

It  is  true,  of  course,  that  we  are  able,  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  to  correlate  stimulus  and  response.  I  know 
that  it  was  the  spoken  word  which  caused  the  commis- 
sion to  be  executed,  for  the  expert  reminds  me  of  the 
fact  and  presents  a  bill.  But  neither  of  us  makes  any 
pretense  that  his  belief  is  derived  from  a  scrutiny  of 
the  causal  sequence.  Memory  furnishes  us  with  a  short- 
cut to  the  result.  While  our  present  acts  are  doubt- 
less connected  with  the  past  through  causation,  we  do 
not  regard  them  as  simply  the  effects  of  antecedent 
causes.  They  are  rather  responses  to  present  stimuli. 
The  expert  presents  his  bill,  being  moved  thereto  by 
a  stimulus  which  may  be  indicated  by  saying  that  it 
is  the  spoken-word-constituting-a-commission-now-com- 
pleted-and-entitling-me-to-compensation.  That  is,  the 
stimulus  cannot  be  pushed  back  and  anchored  at  a 
fixed  point  in  the  past,  but  is  a  present  factor  at  the 
moment  of  response  and  is  operative  by  virtue  of  its 
anticipation  of  future  events. 


CONSCIOUSNESS  AND  PSYCHOLOGY      273 

If,  then,  psychology  is  to  be  regarded  as  a  study 
of  behavior,  it  is  plainly  necessary  to  reinterpret  the 
category  of  behavior.     For  example,   a   purely   me- 
chanical response  to  a  light-stimulus  may  properly  be 
viewed  as  response  to  the  ether-vibration  or  wave-length 
upon  which  it  follows  in  temporal  sequence.     But  if 
this  stimulation  results  in  what  is  commonly  called  con- 
sciousness, a  different  kind  of  response  ensues.     The 
light-stimulus  becomes  a  cause  or  occasion  for  the  act 
of  looking.     But  why  look,  unless  it  be  to  secure  a 
new  stimulus  for  further  response?    We  stop  to  look, 
precisely    because    the    first    stimulus    does    not    run 
smoothly  off  the  reel.     The  response  will  not  go  for- 
ward, but  is  halted  and  expends  itself  in  the  effort  to 
secure  a  further  stimulus.     This  is  the  moment  of  at- 
tention, in  which  the  stimulus  undergoes  a  process  of 
transformation,  concomitantly  with  the  process  of  re- 
organization in  the  motor  responses,  and  in  the  direction 
of  ends  or  results  that  are  foreshadowed  in  it.     This 
change  in  the  stimulus  takes  place  under  certain  speci- 
fiable conditions,  and  the  study  of  these  conditions  is 
a  study  of  such  processes  as  perceiving,  attending,  re- 
membering,  and   deliberating,   which   are   distinctively 
psychological  in  their  nature.     Processes  of  this  kind, 
if  taken  as  changes  in  stimuli,  find  an  objective  cri- 
terion in  the  adaptive  behavior  for  the  sake  of  which 
they  occur,  and  they  provide  psychology  with  a  dis- 
tinctive task  and  subject-matter. 

As  against  the  introspectionist,  then,  the  behaviorist 
is  justified  in  his  contention  that  psychological  pro- 
cedure must  be  objective  and  experimental  in  character. 


274 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


The  danger  to  which  he  has  exposed  himself  is  the 
failure  to  differentiate  his  problem  from  that  of  physi- 
ology and  physics.  It  is  only  by  a  proper  recognition 
of  both  the  objective  and  the  distinctive  character  of 
conscious  behavior  that  psychology  can  free  itself  of 
the  reproach  which  is  heaped  upon  it  by  members  of  its 
own  household  and  take  the  place  that  rightfully  be- 
longs to  it  in  the  community  of  the  sciences. 


IV 

According  to  the  preceding  exposition,  the  current 
psychological  doctrine  of  focus  and  margin  is  an  at- 
tempt to  reduce  the  changes  in  the  stimulus  to  terms 
of  static  entities  denominated  sensations  and  images. 
By  abstracting  from  change  we  convert  the  new 
stimulus  that  is  already  on  the  way  into  inert  sensory 
material,  which  lends  itself  to  purely  analytic  treat- 
ment. In  this  way  the  suggested  hardness  of  the  rock 
becomes  a  "  centrally  aroused  sensation  "  of  a  stubbed 
toe,  the  heat  of  the  candle  becomes  an  image  of  a 
burn,  etc.  As  was  said  before,  the  sensations  are  not 
existences,  but  representatives  or  symbols  of  our 
nascent  activities;  they  are  the  static  equivalents  of 
this  foreshadowing  or  reference  to  the  future.  The  ex- 
planation of  experience  that  we  find  in  James  and 
Bergson  approximates  this  view  so  closely  in  one  re- 
spect and  departs  from  it  so  widely  in  another  as  to 
warrant  a  brief  discussion. 

A  prominent  characteristic  of  the  doctrine  advo- 
cated by  James  and  Bergson  is  the  emphasis  given  to 
the  foreshadowings  or  anticipations  of  the  future.    Ex- 


CONSCIOUSNESS  AND  PSYCHOLOGY      275 

periences  of  conflict,  such  as  the  struggle  to  recall  a 
name,  take  on  their  peculiar  coloring,  so  these  writers 
contend,  from  their  relationship  to  a  beyond,  to  some- 
thing which  is  yet  to  be.  If  we  are  to  understand 
experience  as  it  really  is,  we  must  guard  against  the 
besetting  temptation  to  translate  everything  into 
spatial  equivalents.  This  forward  reference  is  usually 
read  off  as  a  distinction  and  contrast  between  simul- 
taneously existing  components.  Some  constituent  is 
first  set  apart  as  the  nucleus  or  focus  and  is  then  en- 
veloped with  an  elusive,  intangible  wraith  of  meaning, 
which  is  called  the  margin.  We  have  been  taught  to 
think  of  the  focus  as  made  up  of  sensory  material  of 
some  sort  and  silhouetted  against  a  background  lit  up 
by  the  fitful,  inconsequential  heat-lightning  of  meaning. 
But  this  is  a  perversion  of  the  facts.  When  we  are 
engaged  in  a  problem  it  is  precisely  these  unformed 
meanings  that  are  of  interest  and  importance.  They 
are  in  the  focus  of  consciousness,  in  so  far  as  we  can 
speak  of  a  focus  at  all.  They  absorb  our  attention 
and  direct  our  energies.  They  inform  us  of  a  margin, 
not  by  refusing  to  compete  for  our  attention  with  more 
important  or  more  interesting  facts,  but  by  bodying 
forth  the  unfinished  character  of  the  situation.  Hence 
this  beckoning,  this  tingling  with  the  sense  of  close- 
ness, this  sinking  back  when  our  efforts  meet  with  de- 
feat. Focus  and  margin,  in  short,  have  to  do  with 
movement,  with  transition,  and  not  with  a  static  field. 
These  situations  are  felt  as  inherently  unstable  and  in 
process  of  reconstruction.  There  is  a  peculiar  sense 
of  activity,  of  "  something  doing,"  of  a  future  knock- 


276 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


ing  on  the  door  of  the  present.  What  is  thus  on  its 
way  to  the  present  we  can  designate  only  in  terms  of 
the  object  as  it  is  after  it  has  arrived.  To  call  it 
marginal  is  to  immerse  the  object  in  this  temporal 
flux,  which  embodies  perfectly  the  characteristics  of 
Bergsonian  duration. 

But  this  is  only  a  first  step.  If  we  turn  now  to 
those  experiences  from  which  this  inner  diremption 
of  fact  and  meaning  is  absent,  we  find  a  process  that 
is  essentially  the  same  in  kind.  They  likewise  consti- 
tute a  temporal  flow,  even  though  there  be  no  sense  of 
duration  or  of  change  as  such.  The  diff^erent  moments 
of  these  experiences  are  not  mechanically  juxtaposed, 
but  blend  together  in  much  the  same  way  as  when  the 
process  is  experienced  as  a  process.  In  principle  we 
have  the  same  transition,  the  same  becoming,  the  same 
growth  from  less  to  more,  the  same  activity  of  continu- 
ous reconstruction.  Conscious  life,  we  find,  is  a  con- 
tinuous adjustment;  each  of  its  moments  is  a  "transi- 
tive state."  The  more  evenly  flowing  experiences 
are  likewise  endowed  with  a  focus  and  margin,  not  in 
the  form  of  static  elements,  but  as  a  dynamic  rela- 
tionship of  what  is  with  what  is  to  be. 

Such  an  interpretation  of  experience,  moreover, 
opens  the  way  for  a  proper  valuation  of  the  psycholo- 
gist's procedure.  The  concept  of  sensation  is  method- 
ology pure  and  simple.  Granted  that  focus  and 
margin  are  such  as  was  indicated  a  moment  ago,  how 
are.  they  to  be  described,  unless  we  resort  to  some 
HUfshegriff  such  as  sensations  ?  James's  description  of 
the  effort  to  recall  a  forgotten  name  is  not  descrip- 


CONSCIOUSNESS  AND  PSYCHOLOGY      277 

tion  at  all  in  a  scientific  sense,  since  the  "  wraith  of 
the  name  "  that  we  are  trying  to  recover  is  of  too  un- 
earthly a  fabric  to  be  weighed  and  measured  by  ac- 
cepted scientific  standards.  It  makes  us  "  tingle,"  it 
lets  us  "sink  back,"  but  such  portrayal  is  literature 
rather  than  science.  Our  first  step  must  be  to  resolve 
our  material  into  components.  These  components  we 
identify  with  genuine  elements  if  we  can,  with  pious 
fictions  if  we  must;  but  until  this  is  done  there  can 
be  no  exact  description.  There  can  be  no  precision  in 
our  statement  of  the  facts  and  no  formulation  of  the 
laws  that  govern  their  changes. 

This  view  undeniably  has  a  certain  plausibility.  As 
long  as  the  results  are  attained  which  the  psychologist 
sets  out  to  reach,  we  need  not  be  hypersensitive  on  the 
score  of  methods.  In  the  field  of  natural  science,  at 
all  events,  this  Jesuitical  principle  is  not  incompatible 
with  respectability.  If  it  be  true,  however,  that  sensa- 
tion is  but  a  tool  or  artifact,  a  means  to  an  end,  what 
is  the  end  that  is  to  be  attained  by  this  device?  It 
is  at  this  point  that  we  come  to  the  parting  of  the  ways. 
According  to  the  view  previously  elaborated,  the  an- 
ticipations of  the  future  have  to  do  with  the  results 
of  our  possible  acts,  and  sensations  are  simply  symbols 
for  the  various  elements  in  our  complex  motor  re- 
sponses. In  the  case  of  Bergson  and  James,  however, 
the  clue  that  is  furnished  by  response  is  discarded. 
The  reference  to  the  future,  being  dissociated  from 
behavior,  is  taken  as  evidence  of  an  abstract  or  meta- 
physical duration,  so  that  experience  is  somehow  other 
than  it  seems ;  and  sensation  is  regarded  as  the  trang- 


278 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


lation  of  duration  into  the  language  of  space.  Asso- 
ciationism  is  justified  in  its  belief  that  reality  is  dif- 
ferent from  its  appearance  in  our  experience,  but  is 
criticized  for  attempting  to  interpret  the  real  in  terms 
of  space  rather  than  time.  In  both  cases  the  lead  of 
the  subject-matter  is  abandoned  in  favor  of  an  expla- 
nation that  is  derived  from  a  fourth-dimensional  plane 
of  existence. 

The  suspicion  that  these  two  positions  have  a  deep- 
seated  affinity  is  strengthened  if  we  call  to  mind  that 
the  concept  of  sensation  was  originated,  not  in  the 
interests  of  methodology,  but  as  the  expression  of  a 
historic  preconception  that  mistook  fiction  for  fact. 
The  fundamental  error  back  of  it  was  the  preposterous 
notion  that  consciousness  consists  of  subconscious  or 
unconscious  constituents,  which  by  their  mechanical  or 
chemical  combinations  make  our  experience  what  it  is. 
The  question  which  it  raises  and  which  has  afflicted  us 
even  to  the  present  day  is  not  primarily  the  question 
of  fact,  but  the  question  of  intelligibility,  as  the  con- 
troversy over  mindstuff  abundantly  attests.     Whether 
we  regard  experience  as  made  up  of  sensory  material, 
however,  or  as  constituted  in  a  Bergsonian  fashion,  is 
a  matter  of  detail;  the  primary  question  is  whether 
a  distinction  between  consciousness  as  it  appears  and 
as  it  "  really  "  is  has  any  meaning.    In  so  far  as  this 
distinction  is  maintained,  we  are  beating  the  thin  air 
of  mythology,  despite  our  reinterpretations  and  justi- 
fications.   True  conversion  does  not  consist  in  a  renam- 
ing of  old  gods,  but  demands  a  humble  and  a  contrite 
heart.    To  call  sensation  an  artifact,  a  methodological 


CONSCIOUSNESS  AND  PSYCHOLOGY      279 

device,  without  a  surrender  of  the  metaphysical  assump- 
tion that  lies  back  of  Associationism  is  not  to  correct 
the  evil,  but  is  more  likely  to  be  treated  as  an  indulgence 
for  sins  that  are  yet  to  be  committed. 

This  fundamental  identity  is  presumably  the  reason 
for  certain  other  similarities,  which  would  perhaps  not 
be  readily  anticipated.  Both  doctrines  undertake  to 
tell  us  what  is  going  on  behind  the  scenes,  what  con- 
sciousness or  experience  "  really  "  is.  The  descriptions 
present  an  astonishing  difference  of  vocabulary,  but 
if  we  take  care  not  to  be  misled  by  superficial  differ- 
ences, we  find  an  equally  astonishing  agreement  as  to 
content.  From  the  one  side  consciousness  is  explained 
as  a  juxtaposition  of  elements;  from  the  other  as  an 
interpenetration  of  elements  so  complete  that  the  parts 
can  be  neither  isolated  nor  distinguished  from  the  whole. 
On  the  one  hand  we  find  a  multiplicity  without  unity, 
on  the  other  a  unity  without  multiplicity.  In  the  one 
account  the  temporal  unit  is  a  sensation  devoid  of 
internal  temporal  diversity;  in  the  other  duration  as 
such  is  a  unity  in  which  past,  present,  and  future  blend 
into  an  undifferentiated  whole.  The  one  position  gath- 
ers its  facts  by  a  mystifying  process  called  introspec- 
tion; the  other  obtains  its  results  from  a  mystical 
faculty  of  intuition.  The  difference  in  language  re- 
mains, but  both  accounts  lead  us  away  into  a  twilight 
region  where  words  substitute  themselves  for  facts. 

As  was  suggested  a  moment  ago,  the  contrast  between 
ordinary  experience  and  something  else  of  which  it  is 
the  appearance  is  the  result  of  the  failure  to  give 
proper  recognition  to  the  facts  of  behavior.     If  we 


280 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


connect  the  forward  reference  of  experience  with  the 
operations  of  our  nascent  activities,  we  have  no  need 
of  a  pure  duration  or  of  bridging  the  gulf  between 
reality  and  its  appearances.     In  the  same  way,  if  we 
construe  sensations  as  just  symbols  of  our  responses, 
we  rid  ourselves  of  problems  that  are  insoluble  because 
they  are  unintelligible.    Such  problems  constitute  meta- 
physics in  the  bad  sense  of  the  word,  whether  they  show 
themselves  in  the  domain  of  science  or  of  philosophy. 
To  describe  experience  by  reference  to  such  a  real  is 
to  explain  what  we  know  in  terms  of  what  we  do  not 
know.    The  question  what  is  real  is  absolutely  sterile. 
Our  descriptions  and  explanations  must  remain  on  the 
same  plane  as  the  experiences  with  which  they  deal, 
and  not  seek  after  a  real  of  a  different  order.     If  we 
are  to  have  an  explanation  of  consciousness  at  all,  the 
explanation  must  not  take  us  back  to  hypothetical  sen- 
sations that  are  almost  but  not  quite  experienced,  nor 
to  a  duration  in  which  all  distinctions  are  swallowed 
up,  but  must  be  rendered  in  terms  of  other  facts  that 
dwell  in  the  light  of  common  day. 

By  way  of  conclusion  I  venture  to  urge  once  more 
that  a  proper  consideration  of  the  facts  of  behavior 
will  furnish  us  with  a  key  that  will  unlock  many  a  door. 
The  conception  of  stimulus  and  response  gives  us  a 
differentia  for  experience  and  also  enables  us  to  dis- 
tinguish within  experience  between  consciousness  and 
object.  If,  however,  we  disregard  behavior,  we  are 
bound  to  lose  our  way.  The  distinction  between  the 
exi)erienced  and  the  unexperienced  is  either  wiped  out 


CONSCIOUSNESS  AND  PSYCHOLOGY      281 

or  else  is  permitted  to  convert  itself  into  a  distinction 
between  appearance  and  reality  that  leads  nowhere  and 
explains  nothing.  The  significance  of  truth  as  the 
successful  guidance  of  behavior,  in  accordance  with 
the  program  laid  down  in  the  organization  of  stimulus 
and  response,  is  lost  to  sight  and  recourse  is  had  to 
a  fourth-dimensional  truth  or  reality  for  the  miracle 
of  breathing  life  into  the  dead  bones  of  our  philosophic 
abstractions.  The  study  of  behavior  constitutes  a 
mode  of  approach  that  holds  out  the  hope  of  deliver- 
ance from  questions  that  should  never  have  been  asked. 
We  are  on  a  different  and,  let  us  hope,  a  higher  level 
when  we  cease  to  ask  how  consciousness  can  lay  hold 
of  passive  objects,  or  how  knowledge  iiberhaupt  is  pos- 
sible, and  concern  ourselves  rather  with  the  wondrous 
activity  whereby  this  plastic  dance  of  circumstance 
that  we  call  the  universe  transcends  the  domain  of 
mechanism  and  embodies  itself  in  the  values  of  con- 
scious life. 


THE  PHASES  OF  THE  ECONOMIC  INTEREST 

HENRY  WALDGRAVE  STUART 

§  1.    In  the  logic  of  Instrumentalism,  truth  has  been 
identified  with  usefulness  and  the  good  with  the  satis- 
factory.   Classifying  critics  have  seen  in  this  the  dam- 
aging mark  of  Utilitarianism,  certain  of  them  deeming 
"  Amerikanismus  "  an  even  shrewder  and  more  specific 
diagnosis.     The  association  of  these  terms  together 
and  the  aptness  of  either  to  express  what  the  critics 
have  in  mind  are  matters  of  small  interest.     It  is  of 
more  importance  to  discover,  behind  the  reproach  im- 
plied, the  assumptions  which  may  have  made  the  re- 
proach seem  pertinent.    One  cannot,  of  course,  suppose 
it  to  express  a  sheer  general  aversion  to  the  useful  or 
an  ascetic  abhorrence  of  all  satisfaction  on  principle. 
Puritanism,  aestheticism,  and  pedantry  should  be  last 
resorts  in  any  search  for  an  interpretative  clue. 

The  distrust  of  Utilitarianism  need  be  ascribed  to 
none  of  these.  It  comes  instead  from  a  conception  of 
the  true  Utilitarian  as  a  dull  and  dogmatic  being  with 
no  interests  beyond  the  range  of  his  own  uninquiring 
vision,  no  aspiration  beyond  the  complacent  survey 
of  his  own  perfections  and  no  standards  beyond  the 
inventory  of  his  own  bourgeois  tastes  and  prejudices. 
The  type  is  indeed  not  yet  extinct  in  our  day:  but  is 
it  plausible  to  charge  a  "  new  "  philosophy  with  con- 
spiring to  perpetuate   it?     Is   Instrumentalism   onljr 

282 


PHASES  OF  THE  ECONOMIC  INTEREST     283 

philistinism  called  by  a  more  descriptive  name?  It  pro- 
fesses at  least  to  be  a  logic  of  hypothesis  and  experi- 
ment, whereas  for  the  perfect  philistine  there  are  no 
ultimate  problems  and  hence  no  logic  but  the  logic  of 
self-evidence.  When  Instrumentalism  speaks  of  needs 
and  interests  in  its  analysis  of  truth  and  goodness  does 
it  then  mean  the  needs  and  interests  that  define  the  in- 
dividual in  what  is  sometimes  invidiously  termed  a 
*'  biological  *'  sense — interests  that  control  him  before 
his  conduct  becomes  in  any  way  a  problem  for  himself? 
Quite  as  a  matter  of  course,  just  this  has  been  the  as- 
sumption. The  satisfactoriness  of  prompt  and  cogent 
classification  has  had  a  hand  in  the  vindication  of  truth's 
supremacy  over  satisfaction.  In  the  view  of  instru- 
mentalism this  ready  interpretation  of  its  mean- 
ing is  nothing  less  than  the  thinking  of  the  unthink- 
able and  the  bodying-forth  of  what  is  not.  The 
man  who  has  solved  a  problem  simply  is  not  the  man 
he  was  before — if  his  problem  was  a  genuine  one  and 
it  was  he  who  solved  it.  He  cannot  measure  and  judge 
the  outcome  by  his  earlier  demands  for  the  very  good 
reason  that  the  outcome  of  real  deliberation  empties 
these  earlier  demands  of  their  interest  and  authority 
for  him. 

Can  the  conception  thus  suggested  of  personal 
growth  through  exercise  of  creative  or  constructive  in- 
telligence be  in  any  measure  verified  by  a  general  sur- 
vey of  the  economic  side  of  life?  Has  it  any  important 
bearings  upon  any  parts  of  economic  theory?  These 
are  the  questions  to  which  this  essay  is  addressed. 


284 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


§  2.  How  have  the  real  or  fancied  needs  of  the  aver- 
age person  of  today  come  to  be  what  they  are?  For 
all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men,  the  ways  and  means  of 
living  have,  during  the  past  century  oritwo — even  during 
the  past  decade  or  two — undergone  revolutionary 
changes.  It  is  true  that  many  of  these  changes  have  been 
relatively  superficial,  touching  only  certain  externalities 
and  entering  in  no  important  way  into  life's  underlying 
and  dominant  motives.  Others,  no  doubt,  may  fairly 
be  held  to  confuse  and  disperse  the  energies  of  men. 
instead  of  making  for  wholeness,  sanity  and  develop- 
ment of  human  interest  and  power.  And  critics  of  in- 
dustrial and  social  progress  who  have  felt  the  need 
for  reservations  of  this  sort  fall  easily  into  a  certain 
mood  of  historic  homesickness  for  the  supposed  "  sim- 
plicity" of  an  earlier  age.  But  our  interest,  in  this 
discussion,  is  in  the  genesis,  the  actual  process  of  be- 
coming, of  our  present  "  standards  of  living,**  not  their 
value  as  rated  by  any  critical  (or  uncritical)  standard. 
And  accordingly  we  shall  take  it  for  a  fact  that  on 
the  whole  the  average  person  of  today  is  reasonably, 
perhaps  unreasonably,  well  satisfied  with  his  telephone, 
his  typewriter,  and  his  motor-car;  with  his  swift  and 
easy  journeyings  over  land  and  sea;  with  his  increas- 
ingly scientific  medical  attendance  and  public  sanita- 
tion; with  his  virtually  free  supplies  of  literature  and 
information,  new  and  old,  and  with  his  electric  light 
or  his  midnight  oil  (triple  distilled)  to  aid  in  the 
perusal.     More  than  this,  he  is  so  well  satisfied  with 


X 


PHASES  OF  THE  ECONOMIC  INTEREST     285 

all  these  modem  inventions  that,  historical  or  aestheti- 
cal  or  other  "  holidays  "  apart,  he  would  never  for  a 
moment  dispense  with  any  one  of  them  as  a  matter  of 
free  choice.  Grossly  material  and  humbly  instrumental 
though  they  are,  these  things  and  their  like  constitute 
the  framework  sustaining  the  whole  system  of  spiritual 
functions  that  make  up  the  life  we  live  today,  as  a 
society  and  as  individuals.  And  our  present  problem 
simply  is  the  way  in  which  they  were  first  received  by 
those  who  were  to  use  them,  and  passed  into  their  pres- 
ent common  acceptance.  To  put  the  matter  in  general 
terms,  how  is  it  that  novel  means  of  action  or  enjoy- 
ment, despite  their  novelty,  are  able  to  command  fair 
scrutiny  and  hearing  and  can  contrive  to  make  their 
way,  often  very  speedily,  into  a  position  of  importance 
for  industry  and  life? 

There  is  an  easy  and  not  unnatural  way  of  thinking 
of  this  process  as  we  see  it  going  on  about  us  that  may 
keep  us  long  unmindful  of  even  the  possibility  of  such 
a  question.     In  every  field  of  action,  we  habitually 
look  back  upon  accomplished  changes  from  some  present 
well-secured  vantage-point,  and  as  we  trace  the  steps 
by  which  they  have  come  to  pass  it  is  almost  inevitable 
that  we  should  first  see  the  sequence  as  an  approach, 
direct   or   devious  but  always   sure,  to   the   stage   on 
which  we  happen  to  have  taken  our  stand.     It  seems 
clear  to  us  that  what  we  have  attained  is  better  than 
aught    that    has    gone    before — if    it    were    not    dis- 
tinctly satisfactory  on  its  own  merits  we  should  not 
now   be   taking   it   as   the   standpoint   for   a    survey. 
But    once    it    is    so   taken,    our    recognition    of    its 


A 


286 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


appreciable  and  satisfying  superiority  passes  over  in- 
sensibly into  metaphysics.  What  we  now  find  good  we 
find  ourselves  perceiving  to  have  been  all  the  while  pre- 
destined in  the  eternal  scheme  of  things!  We  pause  in 
retrospect  like  the  wayfarer  who  has  reached  the  turn- 
ing of  a  mountain  road  or  the  man  of  middle  age  who 
for  the  first  time  feels  that  his  professional  position- 
is  assured.  This,  we  say,  justifies  the  effort  it  has  cost, 
this  at  last  is  really  living!  And  the  next  step  in  ret- 
rospective reconstruction  follows  easily;  this  was  my 
true  goal  from  the  first,  the  dim  and  inexpressible  hope 
of  which  would  not  let  me  pause  and  kept  me  until  now 
dissatisfied.  The  end  was  present  in  the  beginning, 
provoking  the  first  groping  eff^orts  and  afl^ording  pro- 
gressively the  test  and  measure  by  which  their  results 
were  found  ever  wanting. 

This  retrospective  logic  may  explain  the  presence 
and  perennial  charm  of  those  panoramic  pages  in  our 
encyclopaedias  purporting  to  show  forth  the  gradual 
perfecting  of  great  instrumentalities  upon  which  our 
modem  life  depends.  We  survey  the  "  evolution  "  of 
printing,  for  example,  from  the  wooden  blocks  of  the 
Chinese  or  of  Laurens  Coster  down  to  the  Hoe  press, 
the  stereotype  plate,  and  the  linotype  machine.  Or  we 
see  the  forms  of  written  record  from  pictured  papyrus, 
cuneiform  brick,  and  manuscript  scroll  down  to  the 
printed  book  and  the  typewritten  page;  the  means  of 
carriage  by  land  from  the  ox-cart  of  the  patriarchs  to 
the  stage-coach,  the  Cannonball  Limited,  the  motor- 
truck, and  the  twelve-cylinder  touring-car.  And  as  one 
contemplates  these  cheerfully  colored  exhibits  there  is  in 


\ 


v^ 


PHASES  OF  THE  ECONOMIC  INTEREST     287 

each  case  an  almost  irresistible  suggestion  of  a  constant 
and  compelling  need  of  "universal  man"  seeking  in 
more  and  more  marvellously  ingenious  ways  an  ade- 
quate  expression   and   satisfaction.      This   need   seems 
never  to  have  lapsed  or  changed  its  nature.     All  along 
both   driving   power    and    direction,    it   has   been    the 
one  fixed  factor  in  a  long  process  in  which  all  else  has 
been  fluctuating,  contingent,  and  imperfect — all  else  ex- 
cept the  nature  of  the  materials  and  the  principles  of 
mechanics,  which,  too,  are  seen  in  the  end  to  have  been 
mutely  conspiring  toward  the  result.     Essential  human 
nature,  it  seems  clear,  does  not  and  happily  cannot 
change.     Spiritual  progress,  in  this  ultimate  optimism, 
means  simply  clearer  vision,  completer  knowledge,  and 
a  less  petulant  and   self-assertive  habit   of  insistence 
upon  the  details  of  particular  purposes  as  individual 
"  impulse  "  and  "  idiosyncrasy  "  define  them.    We  for- 
tunate beings  of  today  have  available,  in  the  various  de- 
partments of  our  life,  certain  instrumentalities,  and  to 
these  our  interests  attach.     These  interests  of  ours  in 
their  proportional  strength  (so  the  argument  runs)  ex- 
press our  native  and  generic  constitution  in  so  far  as  this 
constitution  has  been  able  as  yet  to  achieve  outward 
expression  and  embodiment.     And  accordingly,  in  in- 
terpreting the  long  history  of  technological  evolution, 
we  take  what  we  conceive  ourselves  now  lo  be  as  norma- 
tive and  essential.     We  project  back  into  the  lives  of 
primitive  man,  of  our  own  racial  ancestors,  or  of  our 
grandfathers,  the  habits  and  requirements  which  we  ac- 
knowledge in  ourselves  today  and  we  conceive  the  men 
of  the  past  to  have  been  driven  forward  on  the  ways 


/ 


^.i 


S88 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


of  progress  by  the  identical  discontent  that  would  pre- 
sumably beset  ourselves  if  we  were  to  be  suddenly  car- 
ried back  to  their  scale  and  manner  of  existence. 

§  3.  Whatever  else  may  be  thought  of  it,  there  is 
at  least  this  to  be  said  for  the  cult  of  historic  home- 
sickness to  which  reference  has  just  been  made:  it  hap- 
pens to  be  at  one  with  modern  ethnology  and  history  in 
suggesting  that  earlier  cultures  were  on  the  whole  not 
less  content  and  self-satisfied  in  their  condition  than  our 
own.  It  is  primitive  man,  not  the  modern,  who  is  slow 
to  move  and  is  satisfied,  as  a  matter  of  course,  with  the 
manner  of  life  in  which  he  fancies  his  people  to  have 
lived  from  time  immemorial.  Change  in  early  social 
groups  is  tragic  when  it  is  not  insensible.  It  comes 
through  conquest  and  enslavement  by  outsiders  or 
through  stress  of  the  dread  of  these,  or  by  gradual 
adaptation  of  custom  to  failing  environmental  resources 
or  to  increasing  wealth.  Assent  to  change  is  in  general 
grudging  or  tacit  at  best  and  is  commonly  veiled  by  some 
more  or  less  transparent  fiction. 

And  our  suspicion  of  fallacy  lurking  somewhere  in 
the  type  of  retrospective  Idealism  we  have  been  con- 
sidering is  strengthened  when  we  come  to  look  a  little 
closely  to  details.  To  take  a  commonplace  example — 
can  it  be  held  that  the  difference  between  using  a  type- 
writer and  "  writing  by  hand  "  is  purely  and  simply 
a  matter  of  degree — that  the  machine  serves  the  same 
purpose  and  accomplishes  the  same  kind  of  result  as 
the  pen,  but  simply  does  the  work  more  easily,  rapidly, 
and  neatly?  Undoubtedly  some  such  impression  may 
easily  be  gathered  from  an  external  survey  of  the  ways 


PHASES  OF  THE  ECONOMIC  INTEREST     289 

that  men  have  used  at  different  times  for  putting 
their  ideas  on  record.  But  it  ignores  important 
aspects  of  the  case.  For  one  thing,  the  modern  inven- 
tion effects  a  saving  of  the  writer's  time  which  can  be 
used  in  further  investigation  or  in  more  careful  revi- 
sion or  in  some  way  wholly  unrelated  to  literary  work, 
and  if  the  machine  makes  any  part  of  the  writer's 
task  less  irksome,  or  the  task  as  a  whole  less  engross- 
ing, the  whole  matter  of  literary  effort  becomes  less 
forbidding  and  its  place  and  influence  as  a  social  or 
a  personal  function  may  for  better  or  for  worse  be 
altered.  The  difference  brought  to  pass  transcends 
mere  technical  facility — it  ramifies  into  a  manifold  of 
differences  affecting  the  entire  qualitative  character 
and  meaning  of  the  literary  function.  And  only  by 
an  arbitrary  sophistication  of  the  facts  can  this  com- 
plexity of  new  outcome  be  thought  of  as  implicit  and 
dynamic  in  the  earlier  stage. 

In  the  same  way  precisely,  the  motor-car,  as  every 
one  knows,  has  "  vanquished  distance  "  and  has  "  revo- 
lutionized suburban  life."  In  England  it  is  said  to 
have  made  acute  the  issue  of  plural  voting.  In  America 
it  is  hailed  by  the  optimistic  as  the  solution  of  the 
vexed  problem  of  urban  concentration  and  the  decline 
of  agriculture.  Even  as  a  means  of  recreation  it  is 
said  by  the  initiated  to  transform  the  whole  meaning 
of  one's  physical  environment,  exploiting  new  values 
in  sky  and  air  and  the  green  earth,  which  pass  the 
utmost  possibilities  of  family  "carry-all"  or  coach 
and  four.  Or  consider  the  ocean  steamship  and  its 
influence :  today  we  travel  freely  over  the  world,  for  all 


290 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


manner  of  reasons,  sufficient  or  otherwise.  A  hundred 
years  ago  distant  joumeyings  by  sea  or  land  were 
arduous  and  full  of  peril,  undertaken  only  by  the  most 
adventurous  or  the  most  curious  or  for  urgent  need. 
Now  commodities  of  every  sort  can  be  transported  to 
virtually  every  quarter  of  the  globe — rails  and  loco- 
motives, cement  and  structural  steel,  machinery  of  all 
kinds  from  the  motor  and  the  dynamo  to  the  printing 
press  and  the  cinematograph,  in  a  word  whatever  is 
necessary  to  recreate  the  waste  places  of  the  earth  and 
to  make  life  in  these  regions  humanly  liveable.  The 
sheer  scale  and  magnitude  of  such  operations  lifts  them 
above  the  level  of  the  international  trade  of  five  hundred 
or  even  a  hundred  years  ago.  And  their  far-reaching 
results  of  every  sort  in  the  lives  of  nations  and  of  indi- 
viduals the  world  over  can  in  no  intelligible  sense  be  un- 
derstood as  mere  homogeneous  multiples  of  what  trade 
meant  before  our  age  of  steam,  iron,  and  electricity. 
Finally,  we  may  think  of  modern  developments  in  print- 
ing as  compared,  for  example,  with  the  state  of  the 
craft  in  the  days  when  the  New  England  Primer  served 
to  induct  juvenile  America  into  the  pleasant  paths  of 
"art  and  literature."  And  it  is  clear  that  the  me- 
chanical art  that  makes  books  and  reading  both  widely 
inviting  and  easily  possible  of  enjoyment  today  is  not 
merely  a  more  perfect  substitute  for  the  quill  and  ink- 
horn  of  the  mediaeval  scribe  or  even  for  the  printing 
press  of  Caxton  or  of  Benjamin  Franklin.  The  enor- 
mously and  variously  heightened  "  efficiency  "  of  the 
mechanical  instrumentalities  nowadays  available  has  for 
good  and  for  evil  carried  forward  the  whole  function 


PHASES  OF  THE  ECONOMIC  INTEREST     291 

of  printing  and  publication  into  relations  and  effects 
which  are  qualitatively  new  and  beyond  the  possible 
conception  of  the  earlier  inventors  and  readers. 

§  4.  The  real  evolution  in  such  cases  of  the  com- 
ing of  a  new  commodity  or  a  new  instrument  into 
common  and  established  use  is  an  evolution  of  a 
more  radical,  more  distinctly  epigenetic  type  than 
the  pictured  stories  of  the  encyclopaedia-maker  serve 
to  suggest.  At  each  forward  step  the  novelty  makes 
possible  not  merely  satisfactions  more  adequate  as 
measured  by  existing  requirements  or  more  economical 
in  terms  of  cost,  but  new  satisfactions  also  for  which 
no  demand  or  desire  before  existed  or  could  pos- 
sibly exist — satisfactions  which,  once  become  habit- 
ual, make  the  contentment  of  former  times  in  the  lack  of 
them  hard  to  understand  or  credit.  And  indeed  the 
story  is  perhaps  never  quite  one-sided;  the  gain  we 
reckon  is  perhaps  never  absolutely  unmixed.  There 
may  be,  perhaps  must  in  principle  be,  not  only  gain 
but  loss.  The  books  we  read  have  lost  something  of 
the  charm  of  the  illuminated  manuscript;  our  com- 
positors and  linotypers,  it  may  be,  have  forgotten  some- 
thing of  the  piety  and  devotion  of  the  mediaeval  scribe 
and  copyist.  So  everywhere  in  industry  the  machine 
depreciates  and  pushes  out  the  skilled  artisan  and 
craftsman,  summoning  into  his  place  the  hired  operative 
whose  business  is  to  feed  and  serve  instead  of  to  con- 
ceive and  execute.  For  cheapness  and  abundance,  for 
convenience  of  repair  and  replacement  we  everywhere 
sacrifice  something  of  artistic  quality  in  the  instrumen- 
talities of  life  and  action  and  something  of  freedom 


292  CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 

and  self-expression  in  the  processes  of  manufacture. 
Thus  again,  to  change  the  venue,  there  are  those  who 
miss  in  democratic  government  or  in  an  ethical  type 
of  religion  the  poignant  and  exalting  spiritual  quality 
of  devotion  to  a  personal  sovereign  or  a  personal  God. 
Whatever  one's  judgment  may  be  in  particular  cases, 
there  can  be  no  reason  for  disputing  that  in  epigenetic 
or  creative  evolution  there  is,  in  a  sense,  loss  as  well  as 
gain.  There  is  no  more  reason  for  supposing  that  all 
that  was  wholesome  or  ennobling  or  beautiful  in  an 
earlier  function  must  somehow  have  its  specific  compen- 
sation in  kind  infallibly  present  in  the  new  than  for 
supposing  that  all  that  is  desirable  in  the  new  must 
surely  have  been  present  discernibly  or  indiscernibly  in 

the  old. 

If  we  are  on  the  whole  satisfied  with  the  new  on  its 
intrinsic  merits  as  a  present  complex  fact,  we  have 
therein  sufficient  ground  for  saying  that  it  marks 
a  stage  in  progress.  This,  in  fact,  is  what  such  a 
proposition  means.  And  the  old  then  appears  more 
or  less  widely  discontinuous  with  the  new — not  merely 
that  it  shows,  in  units  of  measure,  less  of  the  ac- 
ceptable quality  or  qualities  which  the  new  fact  or 
situation  is  found  to  possess,  but  that  it  belongs  for  us 
to  a  qualitatively  different  level  and  order  of  existence. 
How,  we  wonder,  could  our  ancestors  have  found  life 
tolerable  in  their  undrained  and  imperfectly  heated 
dwellings,  without  the  telephone,  the  morning's  news  of 
the  world  by  cable,  and  the  phonograph  ?  How,  again, 
could  feudal  homage  and  fealty  have  ever  been  the 
foundation  of  social  order  in  countries  where  today 


PHASES  OF  THE  ECONOMIC  INTEREST     293 

every   elector   is   wont   to   think   and   to   act   in   his 
public  relations  no  longer  as  a  subject  but  as  a  citizen. 
And  how,  in  still  a  different  sphere,  could  the  father 
or  the  mother  of  a  happy  family  of  children  ever  have 
found  the   freedom   and   irresponsibility   of  bachelor- 
hood endurable?     Shall  we  say  that  in  changes  like 
these  we  have  to  do  simply  with  the  quantitative  in- 
crease of  some  quality,  present  in  small  measure  in 
the    earlier    stages    and    in    larger    measure    in    the 
later?     Or  shall  we  evade  the  issue  with  the  general 
admission  that  of  course,  as  every  schoolboy  knows, 
there  are  in  this  world  many  differences  of  degree  that 
somehow  "  amount  to  differences  of  kind  "?    As  a  mat- 
ter of  fact  what  has  happened  in  every  case  like  these 
18  an  actual  change  of  standard,  a  new  construction  in 
the  growing  system  of  one's  norms  of  value  and  be- 
havior.    Provisionally,  though  hopefully,  a  step  has 
been  taken — a  real  event  in  personal  and  in  social  his- 
tory has  been  given  place  and  date.    From  some  source 
beyond  the  scope  and  nature  of  the  earlier  function  a 
suggestion   or  an  impulsion  has   come  by  which   the 
agent  has  endeavored  to  move  forward.     The  change 
wrought    is   a   transcendence   of   the   earlier   level   of 
experience  and  valuation,  not  a  widening  and  clari- 
fication of  vision  on  that  level.     And  the  standards 
which  govern  on  the  new  level  serve  not  so  much  to 
condemn  the  old  as  to  seal  its  consignment  to  disuse 
and  oblivion.    Least  of  all  can  a  judgment  or  appraisal 
of  the  old  from  the  standpoint  of  the  new  be  taken 
for   a   transcript   of   the  motives   which   led   to   the 
transition. 


r 


294 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


We  must  confine  ourselves  more  closely,  however, 
to  the  sphere  of  material  goods  and  their  uses.  And 
in  this  sphere  objection  to  the  view  proposed  will  run  ' 
in  some  such  terms  as  the  following:  Take  our  an- 
cestors, for  example,  and  their  household  arrangements 
to  which  invidious  reference  has  been  made :  why  should 
we  suppose  that  their  seeming  contentment  was  anything 
more  (or  less)  than  a  dignified  composure  in  which 
we  might  well  imitate  them — an  attitude  in  no  way 
precluding  a  definite  sense  of  specific  discomforts  and 
embarrassments  and  a  distinct  determination  to  be  rid 
of  them  as  soon  as  might  be?  And,  in  fact,  if  they  were 
satisfied  with  what  they  had  why  did  they  receive  the 
new  when  it  was  ofl^cred?  If,  on  the  other  hand,  they 
were  not  satisfied,  how  is  the  fact  intelligible  except 
upon  the  assumption  that  they  had  distinct  and  definite 
wants  not  yet  supplied,  and  were  wishing  (but  pa- 
tiently) for  conveniences  and  comforts  of  a  sort  not 
yet  existent.  And  this  latter  hypothesis,  it  will  be 
urged,  is  precisely  what  the  foregoing  argument  has 
sought  to  discredit  as  an  account  of  the  moving 
springs  in  the  evolution  of  consumption. 

§  5.  Any  adequate  discussion  of  the  central  issue 
thus  presented  would  fall  into  two  parts.  In  the  first 
place,  before  a  consumption  good  can  come  into  general 
acceptance  and  currency  it  must  have  been  in  some  way 
discovered,  suggested  or  invented,  and  the  psychology 
of  invention  is  undoubtedly  a  matter  of  very  great 
complexity  and  difficulty.  But  for  the  purposes  of  the 
present  inquiry  all  this  may  be  passed  over.  The  other 
branch  of  a  full  discussion  of  our  problem  has  to  do 


PHASES  OF  THE  ECONOMIC  INTEREST     295 

with  the  reception  of  the  newly  invented  commodity 
or  process  into  wider  and  wider  use — and  this  again  is 
a  social  phenomenon  not  less  complex  than  the  other. 
It  is  this  phenomenon  of  increasing  extension  and  vogue, 
of  widening  propagation  from  person  to  person,  that 
is  directly  of  present  concern  for  us — and  in  particular 
the  individual  person's  attitude  toward  the  new  thing 
and  the  nature  of  the  interest  he  takes  in  it. 

It  has  recently  been  argued  by  a  learned  and  acute 
investigator  of  economic  origins  that  "  invention  is  the 
mother  of  necessity,"  and  not  the  child.*  Such  a  com- 
plete reversal  of  all  our  ordinary  thought  about  the 
matter  seems  at  first  sheer  paradox.  What,  one  may 
ask,  can  ever  suggest  an  invention  and  what  can  give 
it  welcome  and  currency  but  an  existing  need — which, 
if  it  happens  to  be  for  the  time  being  latent  and  uncon- 
scious, needs  only  the  presentation  of  its  appropriate 
means  of  satisfaction  to  "  arouse  "  and  "  awaken  "  it 
fully  into  action?  But  this  paradox  as  to  invention 
is  at  all  events  not  more  paradoxical  than  the  view  as 
to  the  reception  of  new  commodities  and  the  rise  of 
new  desires  that  has  been  above  suggested.  What  it 
appears  to  imply  is  in  principle  identical  with  what 
has  seemed,  from  our  consideration  of  the  other  aspect 
of  the  general  situation,  to  be  the  simple  empirical  fact ; 
neither  the  existence  of  the  new  commodity  nor  our 
Interest  in  it  when  it  is  presented  admits  of  explanation 
as  an  effect  on  each  particular  occasion  of  a  preexist- 
ing unsatisfied  desire  for  it.  What  both  sides  of  the 
problem  bring  to  view  is   a  certain  original  bent  or 

•Thorstein  Veblen:  The  Instinct  of  Workmanship,  p.  316. 


296^ 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


constitutive  character  of  human  nature — a  predisposi- 
tion, an  elan  vital  perhaps,  which  we  must  recognize 
as  nothing  less  than  perfectly  general  and  comprehen- 
sive— finding  expression  in  inventive  effort  and  likewise 
in  the  readiness  with  which  the  individual  meets  a  new 
commodity  halfway  and  gives  it  opportunity  to  become 
for  him,  if  it  can,  a  new  necessity  and  the  source  of 
a  new  type  of  satisfaction. 

From  the  point  of  view  of  "logic,"  as  William 
James  might  have  said,  such  a  version  of  psychological 
fact  may  seem  essentially  self-contradictory.  Unless, 
it  may  be  argued,  a  novelty  when  presented  excites 
some  manner  of  desire  for  itself  in  the  beholder,  the 
beholder  will  make  no  effort  towards  it  and  thus 
take  no  step  away  from  his  existing  system  of  life 
to  a  new  system  in  which  a  new  desire  and  a  new 
commodity  shall  have  a  place.  So  much  would  seem 
clear  enough  but  the  question  immediately  follows: 
How  can  a  thing  that  is  new  arouse  desire?  In  so 
far  as  it  is  new  it  must  ex  vi  termini  be  unknown 
and  wanting  definition  in  terms  of  remembered  past 
experiences;  and  how  can  a  thing  unknown  make  that 
connection  with  the  present  character  of  the  individual 
which  must  be  deemed  necessary  to  the  arousal  of  de- 
sire in  him?  A  new  thing  would  seem,  then,  from  this 
point  of  view,  to  be  able  to  arouse  desire  only  in  so 
far  as  it  is  able  to  conceal  or  subordinate  its  aspects 
of  novelty  and  appear  as  known  and  well-accredited— 
either  this  or  there  must  be  in  the  individual  some 
definite  instinctive  mechanism  ready  to  be  set  in  action 
by  the  thing's  presentment.     And  on  neither  of  thesQ 


PHASES  OF  THE  ECONOMIC  INTEREST     297 

suppositions  can  having  to  do  with  the  new  thing  effect 
any  fundamental  or  radical  difference  in  the  individual 
— it  can  serve  at  most  only  to  "  bring  out "  what  was 
already  "  there  '*  in  him  in  a  "  latent  "  or  "  implicit  " 
status.  Whatever  new  developments  of  power  or  de- 
sire may  be  attained  and  organized  into  the  individual's 
character  through  his  commerce  with  the  novelty  must 
be  new  in  only  a  superficial  sense — they  will  be  new  only 
as  occun^^nces,  only  as  the  striking  of  the  hour  by 
the  clock  and  the  resulting  abrasion  of  the  bell  and 
hammer  are  new  events.  But  the  clock  was  made  to 
strike;  it  is  the  nature  of  metal  to  wear  away  and 
likewise  these  changes  in  the  individual  are  in  deeper 
truth  not  new  at  all  but  only  a  disclosure  of  the  agent's 
character,  a  further  fulfilment  along  preestablished 
and  unalterable  lines  which  all  along  was  making  head- 
way in  the  agent's  earlier  quests  and  efforts  and 
attainments. 

There  is  a  sense,  no  doubt,  in  which  some  such  ver- 
sion of  the  facts  as  this  is  unanswerable,  but  contro- 
versial advantage  is  paid  for,  here  as  elsewhere  in  the 
logic  of  absolute  idealism,  at  the  cost  of  tangible  mean- 
ing and  practical  importance.  Just  what  does  the  con- 
tention come  to?  Let  us  say,  for  example,  that  one 
has  learned  to  use  a  typewriter.  What  has  happened 
is  like  an  illiterate  person's  learning  to  read  and  write. 
Correspondence  with  one's  friends  begins  to  take  on 
new  meaning  and  to  acquire  new  value:  one  begins  to 
find  a  new  pleasure  and  stimulation  taking  the  place 
of  the  ineffectual  drivings  of  an  uneasy  conscience.  All 
this,  let  us  say,  has  come  from  the  moderate  outlay  for 


298 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


a  superior  mechanical  instrument.  And  now  let  it  be 
granted  that  it  would  not  have  come  if  the  fortunate 
individual  had  not  been  "  what  he  was."  If  it  has  come 
it  is  because  the  individual  and  the  rest  of  the  world 
were  "  of  such  a  sort "  that  the  revival  and  new  growth 
of  interest  could  take  its  rise  with  the  provision  of  the 
new  instrumentality.  But  what,  precisely,  does  such  a 
statement  mean?  What  sort  of  verification  does  it  ad- 
mit of?  What  fruitful  insight  into  the  conorete  facts 
of  the  case  does  it  convey?  Of  what  sort,  prior  to  the 
event,  does  it  show  the  individual  to  have  been? 

The  truth  is,  of  course,  that  he  was  of  no  sort,  then 
and  there  and  with  reference  to  the  purchase — he  was 
of  no  sort  decisively.  He  was  neither  purchaser  nor 
rejector.  He  was  neither  a  convinced  "  typist "  nor 
piously  confirmed  in  his  predilection  for  writing  "by 
hand."  He  was  neither  wholly  weary  of  his  corre- 
spondence nor  fully  cognizant  of  the  importance  of 
intercourse  with  his  friends  for  his  soul's  good.  He 
may  have  been  dissatisfied  and  rebellious  or  he  may 
have  been  comfortably  persuaded  that  letter-writing, 
though  an  irksome  labor,  was  even  at  that  sufficiently 
worth  while.  The  most  that  can  be  said  is  simply  that 
he  must  have  been  willing  and  desirous  to  try  the  ex- 
periment for  the  sake  of  any  good,  imaginable  or  beyond 
present  imagination,  that  might  come  of  iti  But  being 
of  "  such  a  sort "  as  this  could  not  prejudge  the  issue — 
although,  undoubtedly,  in  willingness  to  raise  an  issue 
there  lies  always  the  possibility  of  change.  All  the 
plausibility  of  the  dogma  we  are  here  considering  comes 
from  its   hasty   inclusion  of  this  general  attitude  of 


PHASES  OF  THE  ECONOMIC  INTEREST     299 

constructively  experimental  inquiry  and  effort,  this 
essential  character  of  creative  intelligence,  as  one  among 
the  concrete  interests  which  constitute  and  define  our 
particular  problems  in  their  inception.  To  say  ex  post 
facto  that  the  individual  must  have  been  "  of  such  a 
sort"  as  to  do  what  he  has  in  fact  done  is  a  purely 
verbal  comment  which,  whatever  may  be  its  uses,  can 
assuredly  be  of  no  use  whatever  in  suggesting  either 
solution  or  method  for  the  next  situation  to  arise.  It 
may  be  comfortably  reassuring  afterwards,  but  it  is  an 
empty  oracle  beforehand. 

§  6.  If  then  "  logic  "  is  unable  to  express  the  nature 
of  our  forward  looking  interest  in  the  unexperienced 
and  unpredictible,  perhaps  the  empirical  fact  will  speak 
for  itself.  We  call  things  new;  we  recognize  their 
novelty  and  their  novelty  excites  our  interest.  But  just 
as  we  are  sometimes  told  that  we  can  only  know  the 
new  in  terms  of  its  resemblances  to  what  we  have  known 
before,  so  it  may  be  held  that  in  the  end  we  can  desire 
it  only  on  the  like  condition.  Are  we,  then,  to  con- 
clude that  the  seeming  novelty  of  things  new  is  an 
illusion,  or  shall  we  hold,  on  the  contrary,  that  novelty 
need  not  be  explained  away  and  that  a  spontaneous 
constructive  interest  stands  more  or  less  constantly 
ready  in  us  to  go  out  to  meet  it  and  possess  it? 

Unquestionably,  let  us  say  the  latter.  Any  new 
commodity  will,  of  course,  resemble  in  part  or  in  a 
general  way  some  old  one.  It  is  said  that  bath-tubs 
are  sometimes  used  in  "  model  tenements  "  as  coal-bins. 
Old  uses  persist  unchanged  in  the  presence  of  new  pos- 
sibilities.   But  in  general  new  possibilities  invite  interest 


800 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


and  effort  because  our  experimental  and  constructive 
bent  contrives  on  the  whole  to  make  head  against  habit- 
uation and  routine.  We  recognize  the  new  as  new. 
And  if  it  be  contended  that  novelty  in  its  own  right 
cannot  be  a  ground  of  interest,  that  novelty  must  first 
get  restatement  as  the  old  with  certain  "  accidents  " 
externally  adhering,  the  answer  is  that  the  "  accidents  " 
interest  us  nevertheless.  They  may  prove  their  right 
to  stand  as  the  very  essence  of  some  new  "  kind  **  that 
one  may  wish  to  let  take  form  and  character  for  him. 
Instead  of  the  chips  and  shavings,  they  are  in  fact  the 
raw  material  of  the  logical  process.  For  if  we  can 
know  the  new  cu  new,  if  we  can  know  the  "  accident " 
as  accidental  in  a  commodity  before  us,  the  fact  betrays 
an  incipient  interest  in  the  quality  or  aspect  that  its 
novelty  or  contingency  at  least  does  not  thwart.  And 
is  this  quite  all?  Will  it  be  disputed  that  a  relation 
of  a  quality  or  feature  to  ourselves  which  we  can  know, 
name,  and  recognize — like  "  novelty  " — must  be  known, 
as  anything  else  is  known,  through  an  interest  of  which 
it  is  the  appropriate  terminus?* 

*  It  may  still  be  argued  that  we  must  depend  upon  analogy  in 
our  acceptance  or  rejection  of  a  new  commodity.  For  any  element 
of  novelty  must  surely  suggest  something  to  us,  must  mean  some- 
thing to  us,  if  it  is  to  attract  or  repeL  Thus,  the  motor-car  will 
whirl  us  rapidly  over  the  country,  the  motor-boat  will  dart  over 
the  water  without  effort  on  our  part.  And  in  such  measure  as  we 
have  had  them  hitherto,  we  have  always  enjoyed  experiences  of 
rapid  motion.  These  new  instruments  simply  promise .  a  per- 
fectly well-known  tort  of  experience  in  fuller  measure.  So  the 
argument  may  run.  And  our  mental  process  in  such  a  case  may 
accordingly  be  held  to  be  nothing  more  mysterious  than  a  passing 
by  analogy  from  the  old  ways  in  which  we  got  rapid  motion  in 


PHASES  OF  THE  ECONOMIC  INTEREST     301 

And  there  is  no  difficulty  in  pointing  to  instances 
in  which  the  character  of  novelty  seems  fundamental. 
Consider,  for  example,  the  interest  one  feels  in  spending 
a  day  with  a  friend  or  in  making  a  new  acquaintance 
or,  say,  in  entering  on  the  cares  of  parenthood. 
Or  again,  take  the  impulse  toward  research,  artistic 
creation,  or  artistic  study  and  appreciation.  Or  again, 
take  the  interest  in  topography  and  exploration.  That 
there  is  in  such  phenomena  as  these  a  certain  essentially 
and  irreducibly  forward  look,  a  certain  residual  free- 


the  past  to  the  new  way  which  now  promises  more  of  the  same. 
And  more  of  the  same  is  what  we  want. 

"  More  of  the  same  "  means  here  intensive  magnitude  and  in  this 
connection  at  all  events  it  begs  the  question.     Bergson's  polemic 
seems  perfectly  valid  against  such  a  use  of  the  notion.    But  kept 
In  logical  terms  the  case  seems  clearer.    It  is  said  that  we  reason 
in  such  a  case  by  "analogy."     We  do,  indeed;  but  what  is  an- 
alogy?   The  term  explains  nothing  until  the  real  process  behind 
the  term  is  clearly  and  realistically  conceived.    What  I  shall  here 
suggest  holds  true,  I  think,  as  an  account  of  analogical  inference 
generally  and  not  simply  for  the  economic  type  of  case  we  have 
here  to  do  with.     Reasoning  is  too  often  thought  of  as  proceed- 
ing from  given  independent  premises— as  here  (1)  the  fact  that 
hitherto  the  driving  we  have  most  enjoyed  and  the  sailing  we 
have  most  enjoyed  have  been   fast  and   (2)    the  fact  that  the 
motor-car   is    fast.     But   do   we  accept    the   conclusion   because 
the  premises  suggest  it  in  a  way  we  cannot  resist?    On  the  con- 
trary, stated  thus,  the  premises  clearly  do  not  warrant  the  conclu- 
sion that  the  motor-car  will  be  enjoyable.    Such  a  statement  of 
the  premises  is  wholly  formal  and  ex  post  facto.    What,  then,  is 
our  actual  mental  process  in  the  case?    The  truth  is,  I  think,  that 
we   simply— yes,   *♦  psychologically  "—wish   to  try   that   promised 
unheard-of  rate  of  speed!    That  comes  first  and  foremost.     But 
we  mean  to  be  reasonably  prudent  on  the  whole,  although  we  are 
avowedly  adventurous  just  now  in  this  particular  direction!    We, 
therefore,  ransack  our  memory   for  other  fast  things  we  have 


S02 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


dom  of  our  interest  and  effort  from  dependence  on  the 
detail  of  prior  experience  down  to  date,  probably  few 
persons  without  ulterior  philosophical  prepossessions 
will  dispute.  If  we  call  these  phenomena  instinctive 
we  are  using  the  term  in  a  far  more  loose  and  general 
sense  than  it  seems  to  have  in  the  best  usage  of  animal 
psychology.  If  we  call  them  attitudes  or  dispositions, 
such  a  term  has  at  least  the  negative  merit  of  setting 
them  apart  from  the  class  of  instinctive  acts,  but  it  may 
carry  with  it  a  connotation  of  fixity  and  unconscious- 
known,  to  see  whether  they  have  encouragement  to  give  us.  We 
try  to  supply  ourselves  with  a  major  premise  because  the  new 
proposal  in  its  own  right  interests  us — instead  of  having  the 
major  premise  already  there  to  coerce  us  by  a  purely  ** logical" 
compulsion  as  soon  as  we  invade  its  sphere  of  influence.  And  con- 
fessedly, in  point  of  "  logic,"  there  is  no  such  compulsion  in  the 
second  figure:  there  is  only  a  timid  and  vexatious  neutrality,  a 
mere  "  not  proven." 

Why,  then,  do  we  in  fact  take  the  much  admired  "inductive 
leap,"  in  seeming  defiance  of  strict  logic?  Why  do  we  close  our 
eyes  to  logic,  turn  our  back  upon  logic,  behave  as  if  logic  were 
not  and  had  never  been?  In  point  of  fact,  we  do  nothing  of  the 
sort  The  "inductive  leap"  is  no  leap  away  from  logic,  but  the 
impulsion  of  logic's  mainspring  seen  only  in  its  legitimate  event. 
Because  we  have  not  taken  care  to  see  the  impulse  coming,  it 
surprises  us  and  we  are  frightened.  And  we  look  about  for  an 
illusive  assurance  in  some  "law  of  thought,"  or  some  question- 
lagging  "universal  premise"  of  Nature's  "uniformity."  We  do 
not  see  that  we  were  already  conditionally  committed  to  the 
"leap"  by  our  initial  interest.  Getting  our  premises  together 
is  no  hurried  forging  of  a  chain  to  save  us  from  our  own 
madness  in  the  nick  of  time.  We  are  only  hoping  to  rid  our- 
selves of  an  excess  of  conservative  ballast.  To  reason  by  analogy 
is  not  to  repress  or  to  dispense  with  the  interest  in  the  radically 
novel,  but  to  give  methodical  and  intelligent  expression  to  that 
interest. 


PHASES  OF  THE  ECONOMIC  INTEREST     303 

ness  that  after  all  surrenders  the  essential  distinction. 
It  will  suffice  to  look  at  a  single  one  of  these  instances. 
In    friendship,   for   example,   there   is    undoubtedly 
strongly  operative  a  desire  for  the  mere  recurrence,  in 
our  further  friendly  intercourse,  of  certain  values  that 
have  become  habitual  and  familiar.    We  may  have  long 
known  and  become  attached  to  a  friend's  tones  of  voice, 
peculiarities  of  manner  and  external  appearance,  turns 
of  speech  and  thought  and  the  like,  which  we  miss  in 
absence  and  which  give  us  pleasure  when  we  meet  the 
friend  again.    But  if  the  friendship  is  not  one  of  "  pleas- 
ure *'  or  "  utility  "  simply,  but  of  "  virtue  "  *  as  well, 
there  is  also  present  on  both  sides  a  constructive  or  pro- 
gressive or  creative  interest.     And  this  interest,  stated 
on  its   self-regarding  and  introspective  side,  is  more 
than  a  desire  for  the  mere  grateful  recurrence  of  the  old 
looks  and  words  "  recoined  at  the  old  mint."    It  is  an 
interest  looking  into  the  "undone  vast,"  an  interest 
in  an  indefinite  prolongation,  an  infinite  series,  of  joint 
experiences  the  end  of  which  cannot  and  need  not  be 
foreseen  and  the  nature  of  which  neither  can  nor  need 
be   forecasted.     And   there  is   the  same   characteristic 
in  all  the  other  instances  mentioned  in  this  connection. 
It  is  not  a  desire  for  recurrent  satisfactions  of  a  de- 
terminate type,  but  an  interest  in  the  active  develop- 
ment of  unexperienced  and  indeterminate  possibilities. 
If  finally  the  question  be  pressed,  how  there  can  be  an 
interest   of  this    seemingly    self-contradictory   type   in 
human  nature,  the  answer  can  only  be  that  we  must  take 
♦Aristotle's   Nicomachaean   Ethics    (Welldon*s   transl.),   Book 
VIII. 


«04  CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 

the  facts  as  we  find  them.  Is  such  a  conception 
inherently  more  difficult  than  the  view  that  aU  ramifica- 
tions and  developments  of  human  interest  are  con- 
cretely predetermined  and  implicit  a  priori?  To  ig- 
nore or  deny  palpable  fact  because  it  eludes  the  reach 
of  a  current  type  of  conceptual  analysis  is  to  part 
company  with  both  science  and  philosophy.  We  are 
in  fact  here  dealing  with  the  essential  mark  and  trait 
of  what  is  called  self-conscious  process.  If  there  are 
ultimates  and  indefinables  in  this  world  of  ours,  self- 
consciousness  may  as  fairly  claim  the  dignity  or  avow 
the  discredit  as  any  other  of  the  list. 

§  7.    Does  our  interest  in  economic  goods  on  occa- 
sion exhibit  the  trait  of  which  we  are  here  speaking? 
Precisely  this  is  our  present  contention.     And  yet  it 
seems  not  too  much  to  say  that  virtually  all  economic 
theory,  whether  the  classical  or  the  present  dominant 
type  that  has  drawn  its  terminology  and  working  con- 
cepts from  the  ostensible  psychology  of  the  Austrian 
School,  is  founded  upon  the  contradictory  assumption. 
The  economic  interest,  our  desire  and  esteem  for  solid 
and  matter-of-fact  things  like  market  commodities  and 
standardized   market   services,   has   been   conceived  as 
nothing  visionary  and  speculative,  as  no  peering  into 
the  infinite  or  outreaching  of  an  inexpressible  discon- 
tent, but  an  intelligent,  clear-eyed  grasping  and  holding 
of  known  satisfactions  for  measured  and  acknowledged 
desires.     Art  and  religion,  friendship  and  love,  sport 
and  adventure,  morality  and  legislation,  these  all  may 
be   fields   for  the   free   play   and   constructive   experi- 
mentation  of  human  faculty,  but  in  our  economic  eff^orts 


PHASES  OF  THE  ECONOMIC  INTEREST     305 

and  relations  we  are  supposed  to  tread  the  solid 
ground  of  fact.  Business  is  business.  Waste  not, 
want  not.  First  a  living,  then  (perhaps)  a  "  good 
life."  *  And  we  are  assured  one  need  not  recoil  from 
the  hard  logic  of  such  maxims,  for  they  do  not  dispute 
the  existence  of  spacious  (and  well-shaded)  suburban 
regions  fringing  the  busy  areas  of  industry  and  com- 
merce. 

Such  is  the  assumption.  We  have  said  that  it  pre- 
cludes the  admission  of  speculation  as  an  economic 
factor.  Speculation  for  economic  theory  is  a  purely 
commercial  phenomenon,  a  hazarding  of  capital  on  the 
supposition  that  desires  will  be  found  ready  and  wait- 
ing for  the  commodity  produced — with  a  sufficient  offer- 
ing of  purchasing  power  to  aff^ord  a  profit.  And  the 
"  creation  of  demand,''  where  this  is  part  of  the  pro- 
gram of  speculative  enterprise,  means  the  arousal 
of  a  "  dormant "  or  implicit  desire,  in  the  sense  above 
discussed — there  is  nothing,  at  all  events,  in  other  parts 
of  current  theory  to  indicate  a  diff^erent  conception. 
The  economist  will  probably  contend  that  what  the 
process  of  the  creation  of  demand  may  be  is  not  his 
but  the  psychologist's  aff^air;  that  his  professional  con- 
cern is  only  whether  or  not  the  economic  demand,  as  an 
objective  market  fact,  be  actually  forthcoming.  But 
what  we  here  contend  for  as  a  fact  of  economic  experi- 
ence is  a  speculation  that  is  in  the  nature  of  personal 
adventure  and  not  simply  an  "  adventuring  of  stock." 

§  8.    For  what  is  the  nature  of  the  economic  "  ex- 

•  Cf.  Aristotle's  Politics  ( Jowett's  trans.)  III.  9.  §6  ff.  and  else- 
where; Nicom.  Ethics,  I,  Chap.  Ill  (end). 


305 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


perience  "  or  situation,  considered  as  a  certain  type  of 
juncture  in  the  life  of  an  individual?  It  may  be  shortly 
described  as  the  process  of  determining  how  much  of 
one's  time,  strength,  or  external  resources  of  any  sort 
shall  be  expended  for  whatever  one  is  thinking  of  doing 
or  acquiring.  Two  general  motives  enter  here  to  gov- 
ern the  estimate  and  each  may  show  the  routine  or  the 
innovative  phase.  In  any  work  there  is  possible,  first, 
more  or  less  of  the  workman's  interest — an  interest  not 
merely  in  a  conventional  standard  of  excellence  in  the 
finished  result  but  also  in  betterment  of  the  standard 
and  in  a  corresponding  heightened  excellence  of 
technique  and  spirit  in  the  execution.*  These  in- 
terests, without  reference  to  the  useful  result  and  "  for 
their  own  sake  "  (i.e.,  for  the  workman's  sake,  in  ways 
not  specifiable  in  advance),  may  command  a  share  of 
one's  available  time,  strength,  and  resources.  In  the 
second  place,  any  work  or  effort  or  offer  to  give 
in  exchange  has  a  namable  result  of  some  kind  in 
view — a  crop  of  wheat,  a  coat,  a  musical  rendition, 
or  the  education  of  a  child.  Why  are  such  things 
"produced"  or  sought  for?  Verbally  and  plati- 
tudinously  one  may  answer :  For  the  sake  of  the  "  satis- 
factions "  they  are  expected  to  afford.  But  such  an 
answer  ignores  the  contrast  of  attitudes  that  both  work- 
manship and  productive  or  acquisitive  effort  in  the  ordi- 
nary sense  display.  As  the  workman  may  conform 
to  his  standard  or  may  be  ambitious  to  surpass  it,  so 
the  intending  consumer  may  be  counting  on  known 
satisfactions  or  hoping  for  satisfactions  of  a  kind  that 

•Of.  Vcblcn:  op,  cit. 


PHASES  OF  THE  ECONOMIC  INTEREST     307 

he  has  never  known  before.  Both  sorts  of  effort 
may  be  of  either  the  routine  or  the  innovative  type. 
In  neither  workmanship  nor  acquisition  can  one  fix  upon 
routine  as  the  "  normal "  type,  hoping  to  derive  or  to 
explain  away  the  inevitable  residue  of  "  outstanding 
cases."  For  as  a  matter  of  fact  the  outstanding  cases 
prove  to  be  our  only  clue  to  a  knowledge  of  how 
routine  is  made.* 

The  above  formula  will  apply,  with  the  appropriate 
changes  of  emphasis,  to  buyers  and  sellers  in  an  organ- 
ized market,  as  well  as  to  the  parties  to  a  simple  trans- 
action of  barter.  Two  main  empirical  characteristics 
of  the  economic  situation  are  suggested  in  putting 
the  statement  in  just  these  terms.  In  the  first  place, 
the  primary  problem  in  such  a  situation  is  that  of 
"  exchange  valuation,"  the  fixation  of  a  "  subjective  " 
(or  better,  a  "personal")  price  ratio  between  what 
the  agent  wishes  to  acquire  and  whatever  it  is  that 
he  offers  in  exchange.  The  agent  thus  is  engaged 
in  determining  what  shall  be  the  relative  importance 
for  himself  of  two  commodities  or  exchangeable  goods. 
And  in  the  second  place  these  goods  get  their  values 
determined    together    and   in    relation    to   each    other, 

•  W.  McDougall  in  his  Social  Psychology  (Ed.  1912,  pp.  359  If.) 
recognizes  "incomplete  anticipation  of  the  end  of  action"  as  a 
genuine  type  of  preliminary  situation  in  human  behavior,  but  ap- 
pears to  regard  this  as  in  so  far  a  levelling-down  of  man  to  the 
blindness  of  the  "brutes."  But  "incompleteness"  is  a  highly 
ambiguous  term  and  seems  here  to  beg  the  question.  "  Incomplete- 
ness" may  be  given  an  emphasis  in  which  it  imports  conjecture  and 
hypothesis — almost  anything,  in  fact,  but  blindness.  Rather  do 
the  brutes  get  levelled  up  to  man  by  such  facts  as  those  Mc- 
Dougall cites. 


308 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


never  singly  and  with  a  view  to  subsequent  com- 
parison. These  values  when  they  have  been  determined 
will  be  measured  in  terms  of  marginal  utility  in  accord- 
ance with  familiar  principles,  but  the  marginal  utilities 
that  are  to  express  the  attained  and  accepted  ratio  at 
which  exchange  eventually  takes  place  are  not  known 
quantities  at  all  in  the  inception  of  the  process  of  com- 
parison. If  these  dogmatic  statements  seem  to  issue  in 
hopeless  paradox  or  worse,  then  let  us  not  fear  to  face 
the  paradox  and  fix  its  lines  with  all  possible  distinct- 
ness. Can  a  man  decide  to  offer  so  much  of  one  com- 
modity for  so  much  of  another  unless  he  first  has  settled 
what  each  is  worth  to  him  in  some  intelligible  terms 
or  other?  And  is  not  this  latter  in  point  of  fact  the  real 
decision — at  all  events  clearly  more  than  half  the  battle? 
Does  not  the  exchange  ratio  to  which  one  can  agree 
**  leap  to  the  eyes,"  in  fact,  as  soon  as  the  absolute 
values  in  the  case  have  been  once  isolated  and  given 
numerical  expression? 

In  a  single  word  we  here  join  issue.  For  the  com- 
parison in  such  a  case  is  constructive  comparison,  not 
a  mechanical  measuring  of  fixed  magnitudes,  as  the  above 
objection  tacitly  assumes.  And  constructive  compari- 
son is  essentially  a  transitive  or  inductive  operation 
whereby  the  agent  moves  from  one  level  to  another, 
altering  his  standard  of  living  in  some  more  or  less 
important  way,  embarking  upon  a  new  interest,  entering 
upon  the  formation  of  a  new  habit  or  upon  a  new  ac- 
cession of  power  or  effectiveness — ^making  or  seeking  to 
make,  in  short,  some  transformation  in  his  environment 
and  in  himself  that  shall  give  his  life  as  an  entire  sys* 


PHASES  OF  THE  ECONOMIC  INTEREST     309 

tem  a  changed  tenor  and  perspective.  The  term  "  con- 
structive comparison"  is  thus  intended,  among  other 
things,  to  suggest  that  the  process  is  in  the  nature  of 
adventure,  not  calculation,  and,  on  the  other  hand, 
that  though  adventurous  it  is  not  sheer  hazard 
uncontrolled.  And  the  motive  dominant  through- 
out the  process — the  economic  motive  in  its  con- 
structive phase — is  neither  more  nor  less  than  a  sup- 
position, on  the  agent's  part,  that  there  may  be 
forthcoming  for  him  in  the  given  case  in  hand  just 
such  an  "  epigenetic  "  development  of  new  significance 
and  value  as  we  have  found  actual  history  to  disclose 
as  a  normal  result  of  economic  innovation.  It  is  the 
gist  of  hedonism,  in  economic  theory  as  in  its  other 
expressions,  that  inevitably  the  agent's  interests  and 
motives  are  restricted  in  every  case  to  the  precise  range 
and  scope  of  his  existing  tendencies  and  desires;  he 
can  be  provoked  to  act  only  by  the  hope  of  just  those 
particular  future  pleasures  or  means  of  pleasure  which 
the  present  constitution  of  his  nature  enables  him  to 
enjoy.  Idealism  assumes  that  the  emergent  new  interest 
of  the  present  was  wrapped  up  or  "  implied,"  in  some 
sense,  in  the  interests  of  the  remote  and  immediate  past 
— interests  of  which  the  agent  at  the  time  could  of 
course  be  but  "  imperfectly  "  aware.  Such  differences 
as  one  can  discern  between  the  two  interpretations  seem 
small  indeed — like  many  others  to  which  idealism  has 
been  wont  to  point  in  disparagement  of  the  hedonistic 
world  view.  For  in  both  philosophies  the  agent  is  with- 
out initiative  and  effect ;  he  is  in  principle  but  the  con- 
vergence of  impersonal  motive  powers  which  it  is,  in 


'  i'- 


310 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


the  one  view,  absurdly  futile,  in  the  other  misguidcdly 
presumptuous,  to  try  to  alter  or  control. 

§  9.    A  commodity  sought  or  encountered  may  then 
be  of  interest  to  us  for  reasons  of  the  following  three 
general  sorts.  In  the  first  place  it  may  simply  be  the  nor- 
mal and  appropriate  object  of  some  established  desire 
of   ours.      We    may    be    seeking   the    commodity    be- 
cause this  desire  has  first  become  active,  or  encounter- 
ing the  commodity  in  the  market  may  have  suddenly 
awakened  the  desire.     Illustration  seems   superfluous; 
tobacco    for   the    habitual    smoker,    clothing    of    most 
sorts  for  the  ordinary  person,  regular  supplies  of  the 
household  staples — these  will  suffice.     This  is  the  prov- 
ince within  which  a  hedonistic  account  of  the  economic 
motive  holds  good  with  a  cogency  that  anti-hedonistic 
criticism  has  not  been  able  to  dissolve.    Our  outlays  for 
such  things  as  these  may  as  a  rule  be  held  in  their  due 
and  proper  relation  to  each  other — at  all  events  in  their 
established  or  "  normal  "  relation — simply  by  recalling 
at  critical  times  our  relative  marginal  likes  and  dislikes 
for  them.     That  these  likes  and  dislikes  are  not  self- 
explanatory,  that  they  are  concrete  expectations  and 
not  abstract  affective  elements,  does  not  seem  greatly 
to  matter  where  the  issue  lies  between  maintaining  or 
renouncing  an  existing  schedule  of  consumption.     And 
in  this  same  classification   belong  also   industrial  and 
commercial  expenditures   of  a  similarly   routine  sort. 
Even  where  the  scale  of  operations  is  being  enlarged, 
expenditures    for  machines,   fuel,   raw  materials,   and 
labor  may  have  been  so  carefully  planned  in  advance 
with  reference  to  the  desired  increase  of  output  or  pecu- 


PHASES  OF  THE  ECONOMIC  INTEREST     311 

niary  profit  that  no  special  problem  of  motivation  at- 
taches directly  to  them.  And  these  outlays  are  so  im- 
portant in  industry  and  commerce  that  the  impression 
comes  easily  to  prevail  that  all  business  undertaking, 
and  then  all  consumption  of  finished  goods,  fall  under 
the  simple  hedonistic  type. 

But  if  we  keep  to  the  plane  of  final  consumption, 
there  appears  a  second  sort  of  situation.  Our  interest 
in  the  commodity  before  us  may  be  due  to  a  suggestion 
of  some  sort  that  prompts  us  to  take  a  step  beyond 
the  limits  that  our  present  formed  desires  mark  out. 
The  suggestion  may  be  given  by  adroit  advertising, 
by  fashion,  by  the  habits  of  another  class  to  which  one 
may  aspire  or  by  a  person  to  whom  one  may  look  as 
guide,  philosopher,  and  friend.  An  authority  of  one 
sort  or  another  invites  or  constrains  us  to  take  the 
merits  of  the  article  on  trust.  Actual  trial  and  use 
may  show,  not  so  much  that  it  can  minister  to  a  latent 
desire  as  that  we  have  been  able  through  its  use  to  form 
a  habit  that  constitutes  a  settled  need. 

And,  finally,  in  the  third  place,  there  is  a  more  spon- 
taneous and  intrinsically  personal  type  of  interest  which 
is  very  largely  independent  of  suggestion  or  authority. 
A  thing  of  beauty,  a  new  author,  a  new  acquaintance, 
a  new  sport  or  game,  a  new  convenience  or  mechanical 
device  may  challenge  one's  curiosity  and  powers  of 
appreciation,  may  seem  to  offer  a  new  facility  in  action 
or  some  unimagined  release  from  labor  or  restriction. 
The  adventure  of  marriage  and  parenthood,  the  inti- 
mate attraction  of  great  music,  the  mystery  of  an  un- 
known language  or  a  forbidden  country,  the  disdainful 


sn 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


aloofness  of  a  mountain  peak  dominating  a  landscape 
are  conspicuous  instances  inviting  a  more  spontaneous 
tjpe  of  constructive  interest  that  finds  abundant  ex- 
pression also  in  the  more  commonplace  situations  and 
emergencies  of  everyday  life.  It  is  sheer  play  upon 
words  to  speak  in  such  cases  of  a  pleasure  of  adventur- 
ousness,  a  pleasure  of  discovery,  a  pleasure  of  conquest 
and  mastery,  assigning  this  as  the  motive  in  order  to 
bring  these  interests  to  the  type  that  fits  addiction  to 
one's  particular  old  coat  or  easy-chair.  The  specific 
"  pleasure  "  alleged  could  not  exist  were  the  tendency 
not  active  beforehand.  While  the  same  is  true  in  a 
sense  for  habitual  concrete  pleasures  in  relation  to  their 
corresponding  habits,*  the  irreducible  difference  in  con- 
structive interest  as  a  type  lies  in  the  transition  which 
this  type  of  interest  purposes  and  effects  from  one 
level  of  concrete  or  substantive  desire  and  pleasure  to 
another.  Here  one  consciously  looks  to  a  result  that 
he  cannot  foresee  or  foretell;  in  the  other  type  his  in- 
terest as  interest  goes  straight  to  its  mark,  sustained 
by  a  confident  forecast.* 

*I  take  routine  to  be  the  essence  and  meaning  of  hedonism. 
There  are  two  fundamental  types  of  conduct — routine  and  con- 
structiveness.  Reference  may  be  made  here  to  Bdhm-Bawerk*s 
pronouncement  on  hedonism  in  Kapital  und  Kapitalzins,  1913 
(II-2,  pp.  310 ff.):  "What  people  love  and  hate,  strive  towards 
or  fight  ofF — whether  only  pleasure  and  pain  or  other  'lovable* 
and  'hatable'  things  as  well, — is  a  matter  of  entire  indiflFerence 
to  the  economist.  The  only  thing  important  is  that  they  do  love 
and  hate  certain  things.  .  .  .  The  deductions  of  marginal 
utility  theory  lose  no  whit  of  their  cogency  even  if  certain  ends 
(dependent  for  their  realization  upon  a  supply  of  goods  inade- 
quate to  the  fulfillment  of  all  ends  without  limit)  are  held  to 


PHASES  OF  THE  ECONOMIC  INTEREST     313 

§  10.  But  constructive  interests,  whether  provoked 
by  suggestion  or  of  the  more  freely  imaginative  type, 
may,  as  has  been  said,  be  held  to  lie  outside  the  scope  of 
economic  theory.  How  a  desire  for  a  certain  thing  has 
come  to  get  expression  may  seem  quite  immaterial — eco- 
nomically speaking.  Economics  has  no  concern  with  hu- 
man folly  as  such  or  human  imitativeness,  or  human 
aspiration  high  or  low  or  any  other  of  the  multitude  of 
motives  that  have  to  do  with  secular  changes  in  the 
"  standard  of  living  "  and  in  the  ideals  of  life  at  large. 
It  has  no  concern  with  anything  that  lies  behind  the  fact 
that  I  am  in  the  market  with  my  mind  made  up  to  buy  or 

have  the  character  not  of  pleasure  but  of  something  else.  The 
marginal  utility  may  be  a  least  pleasure  or  a  competing  least 
utility  of  some  other  sort.  .  .  ."  (p.  317).  This  is  a  not 
uncommon  view.  As  W.  C.  Mitchell  has  suggested,  it  is  too 
obvious  to  be  wholly  convincing.  (Journ.  Pol.  Ec,  Vol.  XVIII. 
"The  Rationality  of  Economic  Activity.")  Veblen  has  made  it 
perfectly  clear  that  particular  matters  of  theory  are  affected  by 
the  presupposition  of  hedonism.  (Journ.  Pol.  Ec,  Vol.  XVII, 
Quart.  Journ.  Econ.,  Vol.  XXII,  p.  147  ff.)  The  matter  is  too 
complex  for  a  footnote,  but  I  think  it  of  little  consequence 
whether  **  pleasure  "  be  in  any  case  regarded  as  substantively  the 
end  of  desire  or  not.  This  is  largely  a  matter  of  words.  What  is 
important  is  the  practical  question  whether  a  thing  is  so  habitual 
with  me  that  when  the  issue  arises  I  can/not  or  will  not  give  it  up 
and  take  an  interest  in  something  new  the  "  utility "  of  which  I 
cannot  as  yet  be  cognizant  of  because  it  partly  rests  with  me 
to  create  it.  If  this  is  the  fact  it  will  surely  look  as  if  pleasure  or 
the  avoidance  of  pain  were  my  end  in  the  case.  Hedonism  and 
egoism  are  in  the  end  convertible  terms.  There  is  conduct  wear- 
ing the  outward  aspect  of  altruism  that  is  egotistic  in  fact— not 
because  it  was  from  the  first  insincere  or  self -delusive,  but 
because  it  has  become  habitual  and  may  in  a  crisis  be  held  to 
for  the  sake  of  the  satisfaction  it  affords.  Genuine  altruism, 
on  the  other  hand,  is  a  form  of  constructiveness. 


il' 


314 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


sell  a  thing  at  a  certain  price.  And  the  answer  to  this 
contention  must  be  that  it  first  reverses  and  then  dis- 
torts the  true  perspective  of  our  economic  experience.. 
Let  it  be  admitted  freely — indeed,  let  it  be  insisted  on — 
that  the  definition  of  a  science  must  be  determined  by 
the  pragmatic  test.  If  an  economist  elects  to  concern 
himself  with  the  problems  of  what  has  been  called  the 
"  loose  mechanics  of  trade  "  there  can  be  no  question 
of  his  right  to  do  so  or  of  the  importance  of  the  services 
he  may  render  thereby,  both  to  theory  and  to  practice. 
But  on  the  other  hand  economic  theory  cannot  be  there- 
fore, once  and  for  all,  made  a  matter  of  accounting — 
to  the  effacement  of  all  problems  and  aspects  of  prob- 
lems of  which  the  accountant  has  no  professional 
cognizance.  Just  this,  apparently,  is  what  it  means  to 
level  down  all  types  of  interest  to  the  hedonistic,  leaving 
aside  as  "  extra-economic "  those  that  too  palpably 
resist  the  operation.  It  is  acknowledged  that  freshly 
suggested  modes  of  consumption  and  ends  of  effort  re- 
quire expenditure  and  sacrifice  no  less  than  the  habitual, 
that  the  exploration  of  Tibet  or  of  the  Polar  Seas 
affects  the  market  for  supplies  not  less  certainly  than 
the  scheduled  voyages  of  oceanic  liners.  Moreover, 
behind  these  scheduled  voyages  there  are  all  the  varied 
motives  that  induce  people  to  travel  and  the  desires 
that  lead  to  the  shipment  of  goods.  Shall  it  be  said 
that  all  of  these  motives  and  desires  must  be  traceable 
back  to  settled  habits  of  behavior  and  consumption? 
And  if  this  cannot  be  maintained  is  it  not  hazardous  to 
assume  that  such  general  problems  of  economic  theory 
as  the  determination  of  market  values  or  of  the  shares 


PHASES  OF  THE  ECONOMIC  INTEREST     315 

in  distribution  require  no  recognition  of  the  other  em- 
pirical types  of  interest.''  These  types,  if  they  are 
genuine,  are  surely  important;  they  may  well  prove 
to  be,  in  many  ways,  fundamentally  important.  For  a 
commodity  that  has  become  habitual  must  once  have 
been  new  and  untried. 

§  11.  The  economic  demands  which  make  up  the 
budget  of  a  particular  person  at  a  particular  time  are 
clearly  interdependent.  A  man's  income  or  the  greater 
part  of  it  is  usually  distributed  among  various  chan- 
nels of  expenditure  in  a  certain  fairly  constant  way. 
In  proportion  to  the  definiteness  of  this  distribution 
and  the  resoluteness  with  which  it  is  maintained  does 
the  impression  gain  strength  that  the  man  is  carrying 
out  a  consistent  plan  of  some  sort.  Such  a  regular 
plan  of  expenditure  may  be  drawn  out  into  a  schedule, 
setting  forth  the  amounts  required  at  a  certain  price 
for  the  unit  of  each  kind.  And  such  a  schedule  is  an 
expression  in  detail,  in  terms  of  ways  and  means,  of 
the  type  of  life  one  has  elected  to  lead.  For  virtually 
any  income  above  the  level  of  bare  physical  subsistence, 
there  will  be  an  indefinite  number  of  alternative  budgets 
possible.  A  little  less  may  be  spent  for  household 
conveniences  and  adornments  and  a  little  more  for  food. 
Some  recreations  may  be  sacrificed  for  an  occasional 
book  or  magazine.  One  may  build  a  house  or  pur- 
chase a  motor-car  instead  of  going  abroad.  And  which- 
ever choice  is  made,  related  expenditures  must  be  made  in 
consequence  for  which,  on  the  assumption  of  a  definite 
amount  of  income,  compensation  must  be  made  by  cur- 
tailment of  outlay  at  other  points.     What  seems  clear 


1,  *. 


316 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


in  general  Is  that  one's  total  budget  is  relative  to 
the  general  plan  and  manner  of  life  one  deems  for 
him  the  best  possible  and  that  this  plan,  more  or  less 
definitely  formulated,  more  or  less  steadily  operative, 
is  what  really  determines  how  far  expenditure  shall  go 
in  this  direction  and  in  that.  The  budget  as  a  whole 
will  define  for  the  individual  an  equilibrium  among  his 
various  recognized  wants;  if  the  work  of  calculating  it 
has  been  carefully  done  there  will  be  for  the  time  being 
no  tendency  to  change  in  any  item. 

If,  then,  we  choose  to  say  in  such  a  case  that  the  in- 
dividual carries  his  expenditure  along  each  line  to  the 
precise  point  at  which  the  last  or  marginal  utility  en- 
joyed is  precisely  equal  to  the  marginal  utility  on  every 
other  line,  it  seems  not  difficult  to  grasp  what  such  a 
statement  means.  Quite  harmlessly,  all  that  it  can  mean 
is  that  the  individual  has  planned  precisely  what  he  has 
planned  and  is  not  sorry  for  it,  and  for  the  time  being 
does  not  think  he  can  improve  upon  it.  As  there  is  one 
earth  drawing  toward  its  center  each  billiard  ball  of  the 
dozen  in  equilibrium  in  a  bowl,  so  there  is  behind  the 
budget  of  the  individual  one  complex  personal  concep- 
tion of  a  way  of  life  that  fixes  more  or  less  certainly 
and  clearly  the  kinds  and  intensities  of  his  wants 
and  assigns  to  each  its  share  of  purchasing  power. 
That  the  units  or  elements  in  equilibrium  hold  their 
positions  with  reference  to  each  other  for  reasons  capable 
of  separate  statement  for  each  unit  seems  a  supposition 
no  less  impossible  in  the  one  case  than  in  the  other.  To 
think  of  each  kind  of  want  in  the  individual's  nature 
as  holding  separately  in  fee  simple  and  clamoring  for 


PHASES  OF  THE  ECONOMIC  INTEREST     317 

full  and  separate  "  satisfaction  "  In  its  separate  kind, 
is  the  characteristic  illusion  of  a  purely  formal  type 
of  analysis.    The  permanence  of  a  budget  and  its  carry- 
ing out  no  doubt  require  the  due  and  precise  realization 
of  each  plotted  marginal  utility — to  go  further  than 
this  along  any  one  line  would  inevitably  mean  getting 
not  so  far  along  certain  others,  and  thus  a  distorted 
and  disappointing  total  attainment  in  the  end.     But 
to  say  that  one  actually  plans  and  controls  his  expendi- 
tures along  various  lines  by  the  ultimate  aim  of  attain- 
ing equivalent  terminal  utilities  on  each  is  quite-  another 
story.    It  is  much  like  saying  that  the  square  inches  of 
canvas  assigned  in  a  picture  to  sky  and  sea  and  crannied 
wall  are  arranged  upon  the  principle  of  identical  and 
equal  effects  for  artist  or  beholder  from  the  last  inches 
painted  of  each  kind.     The  formula  of  the  equality  of 
marginal  effects  is  no  constructive  principle ;  it  is  only  a 
concise  if  indeed  somewhat  grotesque  way  of  phrasing 
the  essential  fact  that  no  change  of  the  qualitative  whole 
is  going  to  be  made,  because  no  imperfection  in  it  as  a 
whole  is  felt.* 

•Until  after  this  essay  was  finished  I  had  not  seen  John  A. 
Hobson^s  book  entitled  Work  and  Wealth,  A  Human  Valuation 
(London,  1914).  My  attention  was  first  definitely  called  to  this 
work  by  a  friend  among  the  economists  who  read  my  finished 
MS.  late  in  1915,  and  referred  me  in  particular  to  the  concluding 
chapter  on  "Social  Science  and  Social  Art."  On  now  tardily 
reading  this  chapter  I  find  that,  as  any  reader  will  readily  per- 
ceive, it  distinctly  anticipates,  almost  verbatim  in  parts,  what 
I  have  tried,  with  far  less  success,  to  say  in  the  foregoing  two 
paragraphs  above.  Hobson  argues,  with  characteristic  clearness 
and  eflfect,  for  the  qualitative  uniqueness  and  the  integral  char- 
acter of  personal  budgets,  holding  that  the  logic  of  marginaUty 


318 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


§  12.  We  come,  then,  to  the  problem  of  the  indi- 
vidual's encounter  with  a  new  commodity.  In  general,  a 
purchase  in  such  a  case  must  amount  to  more  or  less  of 
a  departure  from  tne  scheme  of  life  in  force  and  a 
transition  over  to  a  different  one.  And  a  new  com- 
modity (in  the  sense  in  which  the  term  has  been  used 
above)  is  apt  to  be  initially  more  tempting  than  an 
addition  along  some  line  of  expenditure  already  rep- 
resented in  the  budget.  The  latter,  supposing  there 
has  been  no  change  of  price  and  no  increase  of  income, 
is  usually  a  mere  irregularity,  an  insurgent  departure 
from  some  one  specification  of  a  total  plan  without  pre- 
liminary compensating  adjustment  or  appropriate 
change  at  other  points.     The  erratic  outlay,  if  consid- 

is  "an  entirely  illusory  account  of  the  psychical  process  by 
which  a  man  lays  out  his  money,  or  his  time,  or  his  energy" 
(p.  331).  "So  far  as  it  is  true  that  the  last  sovereign  of  my 
expenditure  in  bread  equals  in  utility  the  last  sovereign  of  my 
expenditure  in  books,  that  fact  proceeds  not  from  a  comparison, 
conscious,  or  unconscious,  of  these  separate  items  at  this  margin, 
but  from  the  parts  assigned  respectively  to  bread  and  books  in 
the  organic  plan  of  my  life.  Quantitative  analysis,  inherently 
incapable  of  comprehending  qualitative  unity  or  qualitative  dif- 
ferences, can  only  pretend  to  reduce  the  latter  to  quantitative 
differences.  What  it  actually  does  is  to  ignore  alike  the  unity 
of  the  whole  and  the  qualitativeness  of  the  parts"  (p.  334). 
Hobson  not  only  uses  the  analogy  of  the  artist  and  the  picture 
(p.  330)  precisely  as  I  have  done,  but  offers  still  other  illustra- 
tions of  the  principle  that  seem  to  me  even  more  apt  and  telling. 
Though  not  indebted  to  him  for  what  I  have  put  into  the  above 
paragraphs,  I  am  glad  to  be  able  to  cite  the  authority  of  so  dis- 
tinguished an  economist  and  sociologist  for  conclusions  to  which 
I  found  my  own  way.  Other  parts  as  well  of  Work  and  Wealth 
(e.  g..  Chapter  IV,  on  "The  Creative  Factor  in  Production") 
seem  to  have  a  close  relation  to  the  main  theme  of  the  present 
discussion. 


PHASES  OF  THE  ECONOMIC  INTEREST     319 

erable,  will  result  in  sheer  disorder  and  extravagance — 
indefensible  and  self-condemned  on  the  principles  of 
the  individual's  own  economy.  But  with  a  new  com- 
modity the  case  stands  differently.  It  is  more  inter- 
esting to  consider  a  really  new  proposal  than  to  reopen 
a  case  once  closed  when  no  evidence  distinctly  new  is 
offered.  A  sheer  "  temptation  "  or  an  isolated  impulse 
toward  new  outlay  along  a  line  already  measured  in 
one's  scheme  has  the  force  of  habit  and  a  presumption  of 
un-wisdom  to  overcome.  If  the  case  is  one  not  of  tempta- 
tion but  of  "  being  urged  "  one  is  apt  to  answer,  "  No, 
I  can  make  no  use  of  any  more  of  f^af ."  But  a  new  com- 
modity has  the  charm  of  its  novelty,  a  charm  consisting 
in  the  promise,  in  positive  fashion,  of  new  qualitative 
values  about  which  a  new  entire  schedule  will  have  to  be 
organized.  Partly  its  strength  of  appeal  lies  in  its 
radicalism;  it  gains  ready  attention  not  only  by  its 
promise  but  by  its  boldness.  "  Preparedness  "  gains  a 
more  ready  acclaim  than  better  schools  or  the  extirpa- 
tion of  disease.  The  automobile  and  the  "  moving  pic- 
ture "  probably  have  a  vogue  today  far  surpassing  any 
use  of  earlier  "  equivalents  "  that  a  mere  general  aug- 
mentation of  incomes  could  have  brought  about.  In- 
deed, the  economic  danger  of  the  middle  classes  in 
present-day  society  lies  not  in  mere  occasional  excess  at 
certain  points  but  in  heedless  commitment  to  a  showy 
and  thinned-out  scheme  of  life  in  which  the  elements 
are  ill-chosen  and  ill-proportioned  and  from  which,  as  a 
whole,  abiding  satisfaction  cannot  be  drawn.  It  is  where 
real  and  thoroughgoing  change  in  the  manner  of  life  is 
hopeless  that  irregular  intemperance  of  various  sorts 


S20 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


appears  to  bulk  relatively  largest  as  an  economic 
evil. 

Shall  we  not  say,  however,  that  the  superior  attrac- 
tion of  the  new  in  competition  with  established  lines 
of  expenditure  only  indicates  the  greater  "  satiation  " 
of  the  wants  the  latter  represent  and  the  comparative 
freshness  of  the  wants  the  novelty  will  satisfy?  On  the 
contrary  the  latter  wants  are  in  the  full  sense  not  yet 
existent,  the  new  satisfactions  are  untried  and  un- 
measured ;  the  older  wants  have  the  advantage  of  posi- 
tion, and  if  satiated  today,  will  reassert  themselves 
with  a  predictable  strength  tomorrow.  The  new  wants, 
it  is  true,  if  they  are  acquired,  will  be  part  of  a  new 
system,  but  the  present  fact  remains  that  their  full 
meaning  cannot  be  known  in  advance  of  trial  and  the 
further  outlines  of  the  new  scheme  of  uses  and  values 
cannot  be  drawn  up  until  this  meaning  has  been  learned. 
If,  then,  the  new  commodity  is  taken,  it  is  not  because 
the  promised  satisfaction  and  the  sum  of  known  utilities 
to  be  sacrificed  are  found  equal,  nor  again  because  the 
new  commodity  will  fit  neatly  into  a  place  in  the  existing 
schedule  that  can  be  vacated  for  it.  This  latter  is  the 
case  of  substitution.  Such  an  interpretation  of  the 
facts  is  retrospective  only ;  it  is  a  formal  declaration  that 
the  exchange  has  been  deemed  on  the  whole  worth  while, 
but  the  reasons  for  this  outcome  such  a  formula  is  pow- 
erless to  suggest. 

In  general  the  new  commodity  and  the  habits  it 
engenders  could  not  remain  without  effect  upon  a  sys- 
tem into  which  they  might  be  mechanically  introduced. 
Certain  items  in  the  schedule,  associated  in  use  with 


PHASES  OF  THE  ECONOMIC  INTEREST     321 

those  dispensed  with  for  the  new,  must  be  rendered  ob- 
solete by  the  change.  The  new  interests  called  into 
play  will  draw  to  themselves  and  to  their  further  de- 
velopment attention  which  may  be  in  large  measure 
diverted  from  the  interests  of  older  standing.  And  in 
the  new  system  all  interests  remaining  over  from  the 
old  will  accordingly  stand  in  a  new  light  and  their 
objects  will  be  valued,  will  be  held  important,  for  rea- 
sons that  will  need  fresh  statement.* 

In  similar  fashion  it  might  be  argued  that  the  com- 
modities or  uses  which  one  sacrifices  for  the  sake  of  a 
new  venture  are  inevitably  more  than  a  simple  deduction 
that  curtails  one's  schedule  in  a  certain  kind  and  amount. 
Such  a  deduction  or  excision  must  leave  the  remaining 
lines  of  the  original  complex  hanging  at  loose  ends.  The 

•  It  may  be  worth  while  to  glance  here  for  the  sake  of  illustra- 
tration  at  an  ethical  view  of  preference  parallel  with  the  eco- 
nomic logic  above  contested.  "The  act  which  is  right  in  that  it 
promotes  one  interest,  is,  by  the  same  principle,"  writes  R.  B. 
Perry,  "wrong  in  that  it  injures  another  interest.  There  is  no 
contradiction  in  this  fact  ....  simply  because  it  is  possible 
for  the  same  thing  to  possess  several  relations,  the  question  of 
their  compatibility  or  incompatibility  being  in  each  case  a  ques- 
tion of  empirical  fact.  Now  ....  an  act  ...  . 
may  be  doubly  right  in  that  it  conduces  to  the  fulfillment  of  two 
interests.  Hence  arises  the  conception  of  comparative  goodness. 
If  the  fulfillment  of  one  interest  is  good,  the  fulfillment  of  two 
is  better;  and  the  fulfillment  of  all  interests  is  best.  .  .  . 
Morality,  then,  is  such  performance  as  under  the  circumstances, 
and  in  view  of  all  the  interests  affected,  conduces  to  most  good- 
ness. In  other  words,  that  act  is  morally  right  which  is  most 
right."  {Present  Philosophical  Tendencies,  p.  334.  Cf.  also  The 
Moral  Economy).  It  is  evident  that  constructive  change  in  the 
underlying  system  (or  aggregate?)  of  the  agent's  interests  gets 
no  recognition  here  as  a  matter  of  moral  concern  or  as  a  fact 


322 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


catching-up  of  these  and  their  coordination  with  the 
new  interest  must  in  any  event  amount,  as  has  been  con- 
tended, to  a  thoroughgoing  reorganization.  What  must 
really  happen  then,  in  the  event  of  action,  is  in  principle 
nothing  less  than  the  disappearance  of  the  whole  from 
which  the  sacrificed  uses  are  dissevered.  These  latter, 
therefore,  stand  in  the  process  of  decision  as  a  symbol 
for  the  existing  personal  economy  as  a  whole.  The  old 
order  and  the  new  confront  each  other  as  an  accepted 
view  of  fact  and  a  plausible  hypothesis  everywhere  con- 
front each  other  and  the  issue  for  the  individual  is  the 
practical  issue  of  making  the  transition  to  a  new  work- 
ing level.  To  declare  that  the  salient  elements  of  the 
confronting  complexes  are  quantitatively  equivalent  is 
only  to  announce  in  symbolic  terms  that  the  transition 
has  been  effected,  the  die  cast.* 

of  the  agent's  moral  experience.  Thus  Perry  understands  the 
meaning  of  freedom  to  lie  in  the  fact  that  "interests  operate," 
i.e.,  that  interests  exist  as  a  certain  class  of  operative  factors 
in  the  universe  along  with  factors  of  other  sorts.  **  I  can  and  do, 
within  limits,  act  as  I  will.  Action,  in  other  words,  is  governed 
by  desires  and  intentions"  (pp.  342  ff.).  The  cosmical  heroics 
of  Bertrand  Russell  are  thus  not  quite  the  last  word  in  Ethics 
(p.  346).  Nevertheless,  the  *'free  man,"  in  Perry's  view,  ap- 
parently must  get  on  with  the  interests  that  once  for  all  initially 
defined  him  as  a  "moral  constant"  (p.  343). 

•  In  a  recent  interesting  discussion  of  "  Self-interest "  (T.  N. 
Carver,  Essays  in  Social  Justice,  1915,  Chap.  Ill)  occurs  the 
following:  "We  may  conclude  ....  that  even  after  we 
eliminate  from  our  consideration  all  other  beings  than  self,  there 
is  yet  a  possible  distinction  between  one's  present  and  one's  future 
self.  It  is  always,  of  course,  the  present  self  which  esteems  or 
appreciates  all  interests  whether  they  be  present  or  future.  And 
the  present  self  estimates  or  appreciates  present  interests  some- 
what more  highly  than  it  does  future  interests.    la  this  respect 


PHASES  OF  THE  ECONOMIC  INTEREST     828 

§  13.  The  statement  thus  given  has  been  purposely 
made,  for  many  transactions  of  the  sort  referred  to, 
something  of  an  over-statement.  If  I  contemplate  pur- 
chasing a  typewriter  or  a  book  on  an  unfamiliar  but 
inviting  subject  it  may  well  seem  somewhat  extravagant 
to  describe  the  situation  as  an  opposition  between  two 
schemes  of  life.  Is  the  issue  so  momentous ;  is  the  act 
80  revolutionary?  But  the  purpose  of  our  over-state- 
ment was  simply  to  make  clear  the  type  of  situation 
without  regard  to  the  magnitudes  involved.  No  novelty 
that  carries  one  in  any  respect  beyond  the  range  of 
existing  habits  can  be  wholly  without  its  collateral 
effects  nor  can  its  proximate  and  proper  significance 
be  measured  in  advance.  This  is  in  principle  as  true 
of  a  relatively  slight  innovation  as  of  a  considerable 

the  present  self  appreciates  the  interests  of  the  future  self  accord- 
ing to  a  law  quite  analogous  to,  if  indeed  it  be  not  the  same  law 
as  that  according  to  which  it  appreciates  the  interests  of  others" 
(p.  71).  This  bit  of  "subjective  analysis"  (p.  60),  a  procedure 
rather  scornfully  condemned  as  "subjective  quibbling"  on  the 
following  page,  must  be  counted  a  fortunate  lapse.  It  could  be 
bettered,  I  think,  in  only  one  point.  Must  the  future  self  **  of 
course "  and  "  always "  get  license  to  live  by  meeting  the  stand- 
ards of  the  present  self?  Has  the  present  self  no  modesty,  no 
curiosity,  no  "sense  of  humor"?  If  it  is  so  stupidly  hard  and 
fast,  how  can  a  self  new  and  qualitatively  different  ever  get 
upon  its  feet  in  a  man?  In  some  men  no  such  thing  can  happen- 
but  must  it  be  in  all  men  impossible  and  impossible  "of  course"? 
And  what  of  the  other  self?  Carver  has  not  applied  the  "  methods 
of  subjective  analysis  "  to  change  from  self  to  self  or  from  interest 
in  self  to  interest  in  others.  The  present  tense  of  formal  logic 
governs  fundamentally  throughout  the  whole  account. 

If  this  essay  were  a  volume  I  should  try  to  consider,  from  the 
point  of  view  of  constructive  intelligence,  the  explanation  of 
Interest  as  due  to  the  undervaluation  of  future  goods. 


324 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


one.  And  our  present  conscious  exaggeration  departs 
less  widely  from  the  truth  than  the  alternative  usual 
preoccupation  of  economic  theory  with  the  logic  of 
routine  desire  and  demand.  For  the  phenomena  of  rou- 
tine and  habit  are  thereby  made  a  standard  by  which 
all  others,  if  indeed  recognized  as  real  at  all,  must  be 
judged  "  exceptional."  And,  as  we  shall  see,  to  do  this 
introduces  difficulty  into  certain  parts  of  substantive 
economic  theory. 

Again,  objection  may  attach  to  the  view  that  equiva- 
lence of  the  "  salient  members  "  of  the  opposing  sys- 
tems is  only  another  name  for  the  comprehensive  fact 
of  the  novelty's  acceptance.  For  if  we  hesitate  in  such 
a  case,  is  this  not  because  we  judge  the  price  too  high? 
What  can  this  signify  but  that  the  service  or  satisfac- 
tion we  expect  from  the  novelty  falls  short  of  sufficing 
to  convince  us.^  And  unless  we  are  dealing  with  meas- 
ured quantities,  how  can  we  come  to  this  conclusion? 
Moreover,  if  the  novel  commodity  is  divided  into  units 
we  may  take  a  smaller  quantity  when  the  price  de- 
manded is  "  high  "  than  if  the  price  were  lower.  And 
does  this  not  suggest  predetermined  value-magnitudes 
as  data?  But  if  one  takes  thus  a  smaller  amount,  as 
the  argument  contends,  it  is  because  there  is  a  pre- 
sumption of  being  able  to  make  some  important  total 
use  of  it  and  there  is  no  general  reason  apparent  for 
supposing  that  this  will  be  merely  a  fractional  part 
of  a  larger  but  like  significance  that  might  be  hoped 
for  from  a  larger  quantity.  And  on  the  other  hand, 
the  prospect  simply  may  not  tempt  at  all;  the  smaller 
quantity  may  be  deemed  an  improbable  support  for  a 


PHASES  OF  THE  ECONOMIC  INTEREST     325 

really  promising  total  program  and  the  present  pro- 
gram will  hold  its  ground,  not  seriously  shaken.  The 
total  demand  of  a  market  for  a  given  commodity  is 
no  doubt  in  some  sort  a  mathematical  function  of  the 
price.  The  lower  the  price  the  greater  in  some  ratio 
will  be  the  number  of  persons  who  will  buy  and  in 
general  the  greater  the  number  of  units  taken  by  those 
who  are  already  buyers.  But  that  such  a  proposition 
admits  of  statistical  proof  from  the  observation  of  a 
series  of  price  changes  in  a  market  affords  no  pre- 
sumption concerning  the  nature  of  the  reasons  that  move 
any  individual  person  to  his  action.  The  theoretical 
temptation  is  strong,  here  as  elsewhere,  in  passing  from 
the  study  of  markets  to  the  personal  economy  of  the 
individual  forthwith  to  find  this  also  a  trafficking  in  unit- 
quantities  and  marginal  satisfactions  to  which  the  con- 
cepts and  notation  of  market  analysis  will  readily  apply. 
It  remains  to  consider  certain  implications  of  this 
view  of  economic  desire  and  demand. 


§  14.  It  is  evident  that  the  issue  finally  at  stake  in 
any  economic  problem  of  constructive  comparison,  is  an 
ethical  issue.  Two  immediate  alternatives  are  before 
to  expend  a  sum  of  money  in  some  new  and  inter- 


on 


esting  way,  or  to  keep  it  devoted  to  the  uses  of  one's 
established  plan.  Upon  the  choice,  one  recognizes, 
hinge  consequences  of  larger  and  more  comprehensive 
importance  than  the  mere  present  enjoyment  or  non- 
enjoyment  of  the  new  commodity.*  And  these  "  more 
•  Fite,  Introductory  Study  of  Ethics,  pp.  3-8. 


n\ 


826 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


important"  consequences  are  important  because  there 
appears  to  lie  in  them  the  possibility  of  a  type  of  per- 
sonal character  divergent  from  the  present  type  and 
from  any  present  point  of  view  incommensurable  with 
it.*  The  ethical  urgency  of  such  a  problem  will  impress 
one  in  the  measure  in  which  one  can  see  that  such  an 
issue  really  does  depend  upon  his  present  action  and 
irretrievably  depends.  And  we  are  able  now  to  see 
what  that  economic  quality  is  that  attaches  to  ethical 
problems  at  a  certain  stage  of  their  development  and 
calls  for  a  supplementary  type  of  treatment. 

Let  us  first  consider  certain  types  of  juncture  in 
conduct  that  will  be  recognized  at  once  as  ethical  and 
in  which  any  economic  aspect  is  relatively  inconspicu- 
ous. Temperance  or  intemperance,  truth  or  falsehood, 
idleness  or  industry,  honesty  or  fraud,  social  justice  or 
class-interest — these  will  serve.  What  makes  such 
problems  as  these  ethical  is  their  demand  for  creative 
intelligence.  In  each,  alternative  types  of  character 
or  manners  of  life  stand  initially  opposed.  If  the  con- 
crete issue  is  really  problematical,  if  there  is  no  rule 
that  one  can  follow  in  the  case  with  full  assurance,  con- 
structive comparison,  whether  covertly  or  openly,  must 
come  into  play.  How  long,  then,  will  a  problem  of  tem- 
perance or  intemperance,  idleness  or  industry,  preserve 
its  obviously  ethical  character  without  admixture? 
Just  so  long,  apparently,  as  the  modes  of  conduct  that 
come  into  view  as  possible  solutions  are  considered  and 
valued  with  regard  to  their  directly  physiological  and 
psychological  consequences  alone.  Any  given  sort  of 
•  Dewey  and  Tufts,  Eihict,  pp.  905-11. 


PHASES  OF  THE  ECONOMIC  INTEREST     327 

conduct,  that  is  to  say,  makes  inevitably  for  the  forma- 
tion of  certain  habits  of  mind  or  muscle,  weakening,  or 
precluding  the  formation  of,  certain  others.  Attention 
is  engrossed  that  is  thereby  not  available  elsewhere, 
time  and  strength  are  expended,  discriminations  are 
dulled  and  sharpened,  sjnmpathies  and  sensitivities  are 
narrowed  and  broadened,  every  trait  and  bent  of  char- 
acter is  directly  or  indirectly  affected  in  some  way  by 
every  resolve  concluded  and  every  action  embarked  upon. 
If  one  moves  a  certain  way  along  a  certain  line  he  can 
never  return  to  the  starting-point  and  set  out  un- 
changed along  any  other.  If  one  does  one  thing  one 
cannot  do  another.  And  when  the  sufficient  reasons 
for  this  mutual  exclusion  lie  in  the  structure  and 
organization  of  the  human  mind  and  body  our  deliber- 
ation as  between  the  two  alternatives,  our  construc- 
tive comparison  of  them  remains  upon  the  ethical 
plane. 

If  one  does  one  thing  one  cannot  do  another.  If  we 
substitute  the  well-worn  saying  "  one  cannot  eat  his 
cake  and  have  it "  we  indicate  the  economic  plane  of 
constructive  comparison  with  all  needful  clearness. 

This  is  in  fact  the  situation  that  has  been  already 
under  discussion  at  such  length  above  and  the  economic 
quality  of  which  we  are  just  now  in  quest  arises  from 
neither  more  nor  less  than  the  fact  of  our  dependence 
in  the  working  out  of  our  personal  problems  upon 
limited  external  resources.  The  eventual  solution  sought 
under  these  circumstances  remains  ethical  as  before. 
But  to  reach  it,  it  is  necessary  to  bring  into  considera- 
tion not  only  such  other  interests  and  ends  as  the  psycho- 


S28  CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 

physical  structure  of  human  nature  and  the  laws  of 
character-development  show  to  be  involved,  but  a  still 
wider  range  of  interests  less  intimately  or  "  internally  " 
related    to    the    focal    interest    of    the    occasion    but 
imperatively   requiring  to  be  heard.     If  my  acquisi- 
tion  of   a   phonograph   turns    upon    the   direct   psy- 
chological bearing  of  the  new  interest  upon  my  other 
interests,  its   probable   effects   whether  good   or  bad 
upon  my  musical   tastes   and  the  diplomatic  compli- 
cations  with   my   neighbors   in   which   the   possession 
of   the   instrument   may   involve   me,   the   problem   of 
its  purchase  remains  clearly  in  the  ethical  phase.    But 
when  I  count  the  cost  in  terms  of  sacrifices  which  the 
purchase  price  makes  necessary,  from  literature  down  to 
food  and  fuel,  and  must  draw  this  whole  range  of  fact 
also  into  the  adjustment  if  I  can,  the  economic  phase 
is  reached.     In  principle  two  entire  and  very  concrete 
schemes  of  life  now  stand  opposed.    Just  what  concrete 
sacrifices  I  shall  make  I  do  not  know — this,  in  fact,  is  one 
way  of  stating  my  problem.    Nor,  conversely,  do  I  know 
just  what  I  shall  be  able  to  make  the  phonograph  worth 
to  me.    It  is  my  task  to  come  to  a  conclusion  in  the  case 
that  shall  be  explicit  and  clear  enough  to  enable  me  to 
judge  in  the  event  whether  my  expectation  has  been  real- 
ized and  I  have  acted  wisely  or  unwisely.    Thus  a  prob- 
lem is  economic  when  the  fact  of  the  limitation  of  my 
external  resources  must  be  eventually  and  frankly  faced. 
The  characteristic  quality  of  a  problem  grown  economic 
is  a  certain  vexatiousness  and  seeming  irrationality  in 
the  ill-assorted  array  of  nevertheless  indisputable  inter- 
ests, prosaic  and  ideal,  that  have  to  be  reduced  to  order. 


PHASES  OF  THE  ECONOMIC  INTEREST     829 

It  is  perhaps  this  characteristic  emotional  quality 
of  economic  problems  that  has  insensibly  inclined  econo- 
mists to  favor  a  simpler  and  more  clear-cut  analysis. 
As  for  ethical  problems — ^they  have  been  left  to  "  con- 
science "  or  to  the  jurisdiction  of  a  "  greatest  happi- 
ness "  principle  in  which  the  ordinary  individual  or  leg- 
islator has  somehow  come  to  take  an  interest.     That 
they  arise  and  become  urgent  in  us  of  course  does  hu- 
man nature  unimpeachable  credit  and  economics  must  by 
all  means  wait  respectfully  upon  their  settlement.     So 
much  is  conceded.    But  economics  is  economics,  when  all 
is  said  and  done.    What  we  mean  by  the  economic  in- 
terest is  an  interest  in  the  direct  and  several  satisfac- 
tions that  a  man  can  get  from  the  several  things  he 
shrewdly  finds  it  worth  his  while  to  pay  for.     And 
shrewdness   means  nicety  of  calculation,   accuracy   of 
measurement  in  the  determination  of  tangible  loss  and 
gain.    Here,  then,  is  no  field  for  ethics  but  a  field  of  fact. 
Thus  ethics  on  her  side  must  also  wait  until  the  case  is 
fully  ready  for  her  praise  or  blame.    Such  is  the  modus 
Vivendi.     But  its  simplicity  is  oversimple  and  unreal. 
It  pictures  the  "  economic  man  "  as  bound  in  the  chains 
of  a  perfunctory  deference  that  he  would  throw  off  if  he 
could.     For  the  theory  of  constructive  comparison  or 
creative  intelligence,  on  the  other  hand,  instead  of  a 
seeker  and  recipient  of  "  psychic  income  "  and  a  calcu- 
lator of  gain  and  loss,  he  is  a  personal  agent  maintain- 
ing continuity  of  action  in  a  life  of  discontinuously 
changing  levels  of  interest  and  experience.     His  meas- 
ure  of   attainment    lies    not   in    an    accelerating    rate 
of  "psychic  income,"  but  in  an  increasing  sense  of 


330 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


personal  effectiveness  and  an  increasing  readiness  and 
confidence  before  new  junctures. 

The  possession  and  use  of  commodities  are,  then,  not 
in  themselves  and  directly  economic  facts  at  all.  As 
material  things  commodities  serve  certain  purposes  and 
effect  certain  results.  They  are  means  to  ends  and 
their  serving  so  is  a  matter  of  technology.  But  do  I 
seriously  want  their  services?  This  is  a  matter  of 
my  ethical  point  of  view.  Do  I  want  them  at  the 
price  demanded  or  at  what  price  and  how  many?  This 
is  the  economic  question  and  it  obviously  is  a  question 
wholly  ethical  in  import — more  broadly  and  inclusively 
ethical,  in  fact,  than  the  ethical  question  in  its  earlier 
and  more  humanly  inviting  form.  And  what  we  have 
now  to  see  is  the  fact  that  no  consideration  that  has 
a  bearing  upon  the  problem  in  its  ethical  phase  can 
lose  its  importance  and  relevance  in  the  subsequent 
phase. 

There  can  be  no  restriction  of  the  economic  interest, 
for  example,  to  egoism.  If  on  general  principles  I  would 
really  rather  use  goods  produced  in  safe  and  cleanly 
factories  or  produced  by  "  union  labor,"  there  is  no 
possible  reason  why  this  should  not  incline  me  to  pay 
the  higher  prices  that  such  goods  may  cost  and  make 
the  needful  readjustment  in  my  budget.  Is  there  rea- 
son why  my  valuation  of  these  goods  should  not  thus 
be  the  decisive  act  that  takes  me  out  of  one  relation  to 
industrial  workers  and  sets  me  in  another — can  any- 
thing else,  indeed,  quite  so  distinctly  do  this?  For  eco- 
nomic valuation  is  only  the  fixation  of  a  purchase  price, 
or  an  exchange  relation  in  terms  of  price  and  quantity. 


PHASES  OF  THE  ECONOMIC  INTEREST     831 

upon  which  two  schemes  of  life,  two  differing  perspec- 
tives of  social  contact  and  relationship  converge — the 
scheme  of  life  from  which  I  am  departing  and  the  one 
upon  which  I  have  resolved  to  make  my  hazard.  It  is  this 
election,  this  transition,  that  the  purchase  price  ex- 
presses— drawing  all  the  strands  of  interest  and  action 
into  a  knot  so  that  a  single  grasp  may  seize  them.  The 
only  essential  egoism  in  the  case  lies  in  the  "  subjectiv- 
ism" of  the  fact  that  inevitably  the  emergency 
and  the  act  are  mine  and  not  another's.  This  is  the 
"  egocentric  predicament "  in  its  ethical  aspect.  And 
the  egocentric  predicament  proves  Hobbes  and  La 
Rochefoucauld  as  little  as  it  proves  Berkeley  or  Karl 
Pearson.  No  social  interest,  no  objective  interest  of 
any  sort,  is  shown  ungenuine  by  my  remembering  in 
season  that  if  I  cannot  fill  my  coal-bin  I  shall  freeze.* 

•The  term  "egocentric  predicament"  (cf.  R.  B.  Perry:  Present 
Philosophical  Tendencies,  p.  129  ff.)  has  had,  for  a  philosophic 
term,  a  remarkable  literary  success.  But  at  best  it  conveys  a 
partial  view  of  the  situation  it  purports  to  describe.  The  "ego- 
centricity"  of  our  experience,  viewed  in  its  relation  to  action, 
seems,  rightly  considered,  less  a  "predicament"  than  an  oppor- 
tunity, a  responsibility  and  an  immunity.  For  in  relation  to  action 
it  means  (1)  that  an  objective  complex  situation  has  become,  in 
various  of  its  aspects,  a  matter  of  my  cognizance  in  terms  sig- 
nificant to  me.  That  so  many  of  its  aspects  have  come  into  rela- 
tions of  conflict  or  reenforcement  significant  for  me  is  my  oppor- 
tunity for  reconstructive  eifort  if  I  choose  to  avail  myself  of  it. 
Because,  again,  I  am  thus  "on  hand  myself"  (op.  cit,  p.  129) 
and  am  thus  able  to  "report"  upon  the  situation,  I  am  (2) 
responsible,  in  the  measure  of  my  advantages,  for  the  adequacy 
of  my  performance.  And  finally  (3)  I  cannot  be  held  to  account 
for  failure  to  reclcon  with  such  aspects  of  the  situation  as  I 
cannot  get  hold  of  in  the  guise  of  "  ideas,  objects  of  knowledge 
or  experiences"  {Ibid,),    Our  egocentricity  is,  then,  a  predicament 


sst 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


§  15.  This  logical  and  psychological  continuity  of  the 
ethical  and  economic  problems  suggests  certain  general 
considerations  of  some  practical  interest.  In  the  first 
place  as  to  "  egoism."  I  am,  let  us  say,  an  employer. 
If  I  am  interested  in  procuring  just  "  labor,"  in  the 
sense  of  foot-pounds  of  energy,  then  undoubtedly  labor 
performed  under  safe  and  healthful  conditions  is  worth 
no  more  to  me  than  other  labor  (provided  it  does  not 
prove  more  efficient).  But  is  this  attitude  of  interest 
in  just  foot-pounds  of  energy  the  attitude  par  excellence 
or  solely  entitled  to  be  called  economic?  And  just  this 
may  be  asserted  for  the  reason  that  an  exclusive  interest 

only  so  long  as  one  stubbornly  insists,  to  no  obvious  positive  pur- 
pose, on  thinking  of  knowledge  as  a  self-suflScing  entitative  com- 
plex, like  a  vision  suddenly  appearing  full-blown  out  of  the  blue, 
and  as  inviting  judgment  in  that  isolated  character  on  the  repre- 
sentative adequacy  which  it  is  supposed  to  claim  (cf.  A.  W. 
Moore,  "  Isolated  Knowledge,"  Journ.  of  Philoi.,  etc..  Vol.  XI). 
The  way  out  of  the  predicament  for  Perry  and  his  colleagues  is 
to  attack  the  traditional  subjective  and  representative  aspects  of 
knowledge.  But,  this  carried  out,  what  remains  of  knowledge  is 
a  ** cross-section  of  neutral  entities"  which  iiill  retains  all  the 
original  unaccountability,  genetically  speaking,  and  the  original 
intrinsic  and  isolated  self-sufficiency  traditionally  supposed  to  be- 
long to  knowledge.  The  ostensible  gain  achieved  for  knowledge  is 
an  alleged  proof  of  its  ultimate  self-validation  or  the  meaningless- 
ness  of  any  suspicion  of  its  validity  (because  there  is  no  uncon- 
trolled and  distorting  intermediation  of  **  consciousness "  in  the 
case).  But  to  wage  strenuous  war  on  subjectivism  and  representa- 
tionism  and  still  to  have  on  hand  a  problem  calling  for  the  inven- 
tion ad  hoc  of  an  entire  new  theory  of  mind  and  knowledge  seems 
a  waste  of  good  ammunition  on  rather  unimportant  outworks. 
They  might   have  been   circumvented. 

But  what  concerns  us  here  is  the  ethical  parallel.  The  ego- 
centric predicament  in  this  aspect  purports  to  compel  the  admis- 
sion by  the  '*  altruist "  that  since  whatever  he  chooses  to  do  muft 


PHASES  OF  THE  ECONOMIC  INTEREST     SSS 

in  just  labor  is  the  only  interest  in  the  case  that  men 
of  business,  or  at  least  many  of  them,  can  entertain 
without  going  speedily  to  the  wall.  If,  then,  I  do  in 
fact  pay  more  than  I  must  in  wages  or  if  I  expend  more 
than  a  bare  minimum  for  conveniences  and  safety- 
guards  this  is  not  because  of  the  valuation  I  put  upon 
labor,  but  only  because  I  take  pleasure  in  the  con- 
tentment and  well-being  of  others.  And  this  is  not 
"  business  "  but  "  uplift " — or  else  a  subtle  form  of 
emotional  self-indulgence.  Suppose,  however,  that  by 
legislation  similar  working  conditions  have  been  made 
mandatory  for  the  entire  industry  and  suppose  that 

be  his  act  and  is  obviously  done  because  he  wishes,  f'^^  good  and 
sufficient  reasons  of  his  own,  to  do  it,  therefore  he  lo  an  egoist 
after  all — perhaps  in  spite  of  himself  and  then  again  perhaps  not. 
The  ethical  realism  of  G.  E.  Moore  (Principia  Ethica,  1903) 
breaks  out  of  the  predicament  by  declaring  Good  independent 
of  all  desire,  wish  or  human  interest  and  indefinable,  and  by 
supplying  a  partial  list  of  things  thus  independently  good.  What 
I  do,  I  do  because  it  seems  likely  to  put  me  in  possession  of 
objective  Oood,  not  because  it  accords  with  some  habit  or  whim 
of  mine  (although  my  own  pleasure  is  undoubtedly  one  of  the 
good  things).  It  is  noteworthy  that  Perry  declines  to  follow 
Moore  in  this  {op.  cit.,  p.  331  ff.).  Now  such  an  ethical  objec- 
tivism can  give  no  account  of  the  motivation,  or  the  process,  of 
the  individuars  efforts  to  attain,  for  guidance  in  any  case,  a 
••more  adequate"  apprehension  of  what  things  are  good  than  he 
may  already  possess,  just  as  the  objectivist  theory  of  consciousness 
(=  knowledge)  can  supply  no  clue  as  to  how  or  whether  a  «ior# 
or  a  less  comprehensive  or  a  qualitatively  diferent  "cross-section 
of  entities  "  can  or  should  be  got  into  one's  "  mind  "  as  warrant  or 
guidance  ("stimulus")  for  a  contemplated  response  that  is  to 
meet  a  present  emergency  (cf.  John  Dewey,  "The  Reflex  Arc 
Concept  in  Psychology,"  Psychol.  Rev.,  Vol.  IV).  Thus  neither 
sort  of  deliverance  out  of  the  alleged  predicament  of  egocentricity 
abates  in  the  least  the  only  serious  inconvenience  or  danger 
threatened  by  subjectivism* 


I 


384 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


the  community  approves  the  law,  even  to  the  extent 
of  cheerfully  paying  so  much  of  the  additional  cost 
thereby  imposed  as  may  be  shifted  upon  them. 

Shall  we  say  that  this  is  an  ethical  intrusion  into  the 
sphere  of  economics  or  shall  we  say  that  the  former 
economic  demand  for  labor  "  as  such  "  has  given  place 
to  an  economic  demand  for  labor  better  circumstanced 
or  better  paid?    The  community  at  all  events  is  paying 
the  increase  of  price  or  a  part  of  the  increase.     It 
seems  arbitrary  to  insist  that  the  old  price  is  still  the 
economic  price  of  the  commodity  and  the  increase  only 
the  price  of  a  quiet  conscience.    The  notion  of  a  strictly 
economic  demand  for  labor  pure  and  simple  seems  in 
fact  a  concept  of  accounting.    To  meet  the  community's 
demand  for  the  commodity  a  number  of  producers  were 
required.     The  least  capable  of  these  could  make  both 
ends  meet  at  the  prevailing  price  only  by  ignoring  all 
but  the   severely   impersonal   aspects   of  the   process. 
Taking  these  costs  as  a  base,  other  more  capable  or 
more  fortunate  producers  may  have  been  able  to  make 
additional  expenditures  of  the  sort  in  question,  charg- 
ing these  perhaps  to  "  welfare  "  account.  The  law  then 
intervenes,  making  labor  in  effect  more  expensive  for 
all  by  requiring  the  superior  conveniences  or  by  com- 
pelling employers'  insurance  against  accidents  to  work- 
men or  by  enforcing  outright  a  higher  minimum  wage. 
The  old  basic  labor  cost  becomes  thus  obsolete.     And 
without  prejudging  as  to  the  expediency  of  such  legis- 
lation  in  particular  industrial   or   business   situations 
may  we  not  protest  against  a  priori  and  wholesale  con- 
demnation of  such  legislation  as  merely  irresponsibly 


PHASES  OF  THE  ECONOMIC  INTEREST     335 

"ethical"  and  "unscientific"?  Is  it  not,  rather,  eco- 
nomically experimental  and  constructive,  amounting  in 
substance  to  a  simple  insistence  that  henceforth  the 
hiring  and  paying  of  labor  shall  express  a  wider  range 
of  social  interests — shall  signalize  a  more  clearly  self- 
validating  level  of  comprehension,  on  the  part  of  em- 
ployers and  consumers,  of  the  social  significance  of 
industry  than  the  old?  And  may  we  not  protest  also, 
as  a  matter  of  sheer  logic,  against  carrying  over  a  pro- 
ducer's distinction  of  accounting  between  "  labor  "  cost 
and  "  welfare  "  cost  into  the  consumer's  valuation  of  the 
article?  How  and  to  what  end  shall  a  distinction  be 
drawn  between  his  "  esteem "  for  the  trimmed  and 
isolated  article  and  his  esteem  for  the  men  who  made  it 
— which,  taken  together,  dispose  him  to  pay  a  certain 
undivided  price  for  it? 

For  the  egoism  of  men  is  no  fixed  and  unalterable 
fact.  Taking  it  as  a  postulate,  a  mathematical  theory 
of  market  phenomena  may  be  erected  upon  it,  but  such 
a  postulate  is  purely  formal,  taking  no  note  of  the 
reasons  which  at  any  given  time  lie  behind  the  individ- 
uals' "  demand  "  or  "  supply  schedules."  It  amounts 
simply  to  an  assumption  that  these  schedules  will  not 
change  during  the  lapse  of  time  contemplated  in  the 
problem  in  hand.  And  it  therefore  cannot  serve  as  the 
basis  for  a  social  science.  As  an  actual  social  phenom- 
enon egoism  is  merely  a  disclosure  of  a  certain  present 
narrowness  and  inertness  in  the  nature  of  the  individual 
which  may  or  may  not  be  definitive  for  him.  It  is  pre- 
cisely on  a  par  with  anemia,  dyspepsia  or  fatigue,  or 
any  other  like  unhappy  fact  of  personal  biography. 


I 


SS6 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


§  16.  There  is  another  suggestion  of  ethical  and 
economic  continuity  that  may  be  briefly  indicated.  If 
our  view  of  this  relation  is  correct,  a  problem,  by  be- 
coming economic,  may  lose  something  in  dramatic  inter- 
est and  grandiosity  but  gains  in  precision  and  com- 
plexity. In  the  economic  phase  an  issue  becomes 
sensibly  crucial.  It  is  in  this  phase  that  are  chiefly 
developed  those  qualities  of  clear-headedness,  temper- 
ateness  of  thought  and  action,  and  well-founded  self- 
reliance  that  are  the  foundation  of  all  genuine  personal 
morality  and  social  eff^ectiveness.  And  one  may  ques- 
tion therefore  the  ethical  consequences  of  such  measures 
as  old  age,  sickness,  and  industrial  accident  insurance 
or  insurance  against  unemployment.  In  proportion  as 
these  measures  are  eff^ective  they  amount  to  a  constant 
virtual  addition  to  the  individual's  income  from  year 
to  year  without  corresponding  effort  and  forethought  on 
his  part.  They  may  accordingly  be  condemned  as  sys- 
tematic pauperization — the  "  endowment  of  the  unfit." 
There  is  evidently  a  fundamental  problem  here  at  issue, 
apart  from  all  administrative  difficulties.  Clearly  this 
type  of  criticism  assumes  a  permanent  incapacity  in 
"  human  nature  "  or  in  most  actual  beings  therewith 
endowed,  to  recognize  as  seriously  important  other  in- 
terests than  those  upon  which  hinge  physical  life  and 
death.  The  ordinary  man,  it  is  believed,  is  held  back 
from  moral  Quixotism  as  from  material  extravagance  by 
the  fear  of  starvation  alone;  and  it  is  assumed  that 
there  are  no  other  interests  in  the  "  normal "  man  that 
can  or  ever  will  be  so  wholesomely  effective  to  these 
ends.    And  two  remarks  in  answer  appear  not  without 


PHASES  OF  THE  ECONOMIC  INTEREST     337 

a  measure  of  pertinence.  First,  if  what  is  alleged  be 
true  (and  there  is  evidence  in  Malthus'  Essay  and  else- 
where to  support  it)  it  seems  less  a  proof  of  orginal  sin 
and  "  inperfectibility  "  than  a  reproach  to  a  social  order 
whose  collective  tenor  and  institutions  leave  the  mass 
untouched  and  unawakened  above  the  level  of  animal  re- 
production and  whose  inequalities  of  opportunity  pre- 
vent awakened  life  from  growing  strong.  And  second, 
the  democratic  society  of  the  future,  if  it  exempts  the 
individual  in  part  or  wholly  from  the  dread  of  premature 
physical  extinction  must  leave  him  on  higher  levels  of 
interest  similarly  dependent  for  success  or  failure  upon 
his  ultimate  personal  discretion.  And  is  it  inconceivable 
that  on  higher  levels  there  should  ever  genuinely  be  such 
a  persisting  type  of  issue  for  the  multitude  of  men?  * 

§  17.  We  have  held  constructive  comparison  in  its 
economic  phase  to  be  a  reciprocal  evaluating  of  the 
**  salient  members "  of  two  budgets.  The  respective 
budgets  in  such  a  case  express  in  the  outcome  (1)  the 
plane  of  life  to  which  one  is  to  move  and  (2)  the  plane 
one  is  forsaking.  It  was  the  salient  member  of  'the 
former  that  presented  the  problem  at  the  outset.  In  the 
course  of  the  process  its  associates  were  gathered  about 
it  in  their  due  proportions  and  perspective.  The  salient 
member  of  the  latter  (i.e.,  whatever  the  purchase  is  to 
oblige  one  to  do  without),  it  was  the  business  of  con- 
structive comparison  to  single  out  from  among  its  asso- 
ciates and  designate  for  sacrifice.  In  any  case  at  all 
departing  from  the  type  of  substitution  pure  and  sim- 

*  Of.  W.  Jethro  Brown,  The  Underlying  Principles  of  Modern 
Legislation  (3d  ed.,  London^  1914),  pp.  165-68. 


ii 


'4 


sss 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


pie,  the   commodities   sacrificed  will   come   to  have   a 
certain  "value   in  exchange"  that  clearly   is   a  new 
fact,  a  new  judgment,  in  experience.    This  value  in  ex- 
change,  this   "subjective"   or  "personal"   exchange 
value,  may  fittingly  be  termed  a  "  value  for  transition." 
The  transition  once  made,  the  exchange  once  concluded, 
I  shall  deem  the  motor-car,  for  example,  that  I  have  not 
bought  to  replace  one  used-up,  to  be  worth  less  than  the 
piano  I  have  bought  instead.  This  indeed  (in  no  dispar- 
aging sense)  is  a  tautology.    But  does  this  lesser  relative 
value  equal  or  exceed  or  fall  short  of  the  value  the  car 
would  have  had  if  no  question  of  a  piano  had  been  raised 
at  all  and  I  had  bought  it  in  replacement  of  the  old  one 
as  a  matter  of  course  ?    How  can  one  say  ?    The  question 
seems  unmeaning,  for  the  levels  of  value  referred  to  are 
different  and  discontinuous  and  the  magnitudes  belong 
to  different  orders.     In  a  word,  because  a  "  value  for 
transition  "  marks  a  resolve  and  succinctly  describes  an 
act,  it  cannot  be  broken  in  two  and  expressed  as  an 
equating  of   two   magnitudes    independently   definable 
apart  from  the  relation.     The  motor-car  had  its  value 
as  a  member  of  the  old  system — the  piano  has  its  value 
as  a  member  of  the  new.  "  The  piano  is  worth  more  than 
the  car  " ;  "  the  car  is  worth  less  than  the  piano  " — 
these  are  the  prospective  and  retrospective  views  across 
a  gulf  that  separates  two  "  specious  presents,"  not 
judgments  of  static  inequality  in  terms  of  a  common 
measure. 

Is  value,  then,  absolute  or  relative?  Is  value  or 
price  the  prior  notion?  Was  the  classical  English 
economics  superficial  in  its  predilection  for  the  relative 


PHASES  OF  THE  ECONOMIC  INTEREST     339 

conception  of  value?  Or  is  the  reigning  Austrian  eco- 
nomics profound  in  its  reliance  upon  marginal  utility? 
By  way  of  answer  let  us  ask — What  in  our  world  can 
be  more  absolute  a  fact  than  a  man's  transition  from 
one  level  of  experience  and  action  to  another?  Can  the 
flight  of  time  be  stayed  or  turned  backward?  And  if 
not  can  the  acts  by  whose  intrinsic  uniqueness  and  suc- 
cessiveness time  becomes  filled  for  me  and  by  which  I 
feel  time's  sensible  passage  as  swift  or  slow,  lose  their 
individuality?  But  it  is  not  by  a  mere  empiric  tem- 
poralism  alone  that  the  sufllcient  absoluteness  of  the 
present  act  is  attested.  My  transition  from  phase  to 
phase  of  "  finitude  "  is  a  thing  so  absolute  that  Idealism 
itself  has  deemed  an  Absolute  indispensable  to  assure 
its  safe  and  sane  achievement.  And  with  all  Idealism's 
distrust  of  immediate  experience  for  every  evidential 
use,  the  Idealist  does  not  scruple  to  cite  the  "higher 
obviousness  "  of  personal  effort,  attainment,  and  frui- 
tion as  the  best  of  evidence  for  his  most  momentous 
truth  of  all.*  And  accordingly  (in  sharp  descent)  we 
need  not  hesitate  to  regard  value  in  exchange  as  a 
primary  fact  in  its  own  right,  standing  in  no  need  of 
resolution  into  marginal  pseudo-absolutes.  A  price 
agreed  to  and  paid  marks  a  real  transition  to  another 
level.  There  are  both  marginal  valuation  and  Werthal- 
tung  on  this  level,  but  they  are  subordinate  incidents 
to  this  level's  mapping  and  the  conservation  of  its  re- 
sources. On  this  level  every  marginal  utility  is  relative, 
as  we  have  seen,  to  every  other  through  their  common 

*  Bosanquet:  Principle  of  Individtiality  and  Value,  pp.  13,  15- 
20,  24,  27,  30. 


' 


l-i 


340 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


relation   to   the   complex   plan  of   organization   as   a 
whole.* 

§  18.  In  conclusion  one  more  question  closely  related 
to  the  foregoing  may  be  briefly  touched  upon.  We  have 
held  that  the  individual's  attitude  toward  a  commodity 
is  in  the  first  instance  one  of  putting  a  price-estimate 
upon  it  and  only  secondarily  that  of  holding  it  in  a 
provisionally  settled  marginal  esteem.    If  this  principle 

•The  case  against  the  Austrian  explanation  of  market-price 
in  terms  of  marginal  utility  has  been  well  summed  up  and  re- 
enforced  by  B.  M.  Anderson  in  his  monograph.  Social  Valu§ 
(Boston,  1911).  Anderson  finds  the  fatal  flaw  in  the  Austrian 
account  to  consist  in  the  psychological  particularism  of  the  mar- 
pnal  utility  theory.  The  only  way,  he  holds,  to  provide  an 
adequate  foundation  for  a  non-circular  theory  of  price  is  to  un- 
derstand the  marginal  estimates  people  put  upon  goods  as  result- 
ants of  the  entire  moral,  legal,  institutional,  scientific,  aesthetical, 
and  religious  state  of  society  at  the  time.  This  total  and  there- 
fore absolute  state  of  affairs,  if  I  understand  the  argument,  is 
to  be  regarded  as  focussed  to  a  unique  point  in  the  estimate  each 
man  puts  upon  a  commodity.  Thus,  presumably,  the  values  which 
come  together,  summed  up  in  the  total  demand  and  supply 
schedules  for  a  commodity  in  the  market,  are  "social  values" 
and  the  resultant  market-price  is  a  "social  price."  This 
cross-sectional  social  totality  of  conditions  is  strongly  suggestive 
of  an  idealistic  Absolute.  The  individual  is  a  mere  focussing  of 
impersonal  strains  and  stresses  in  the  Absolute.  But  the  real 
society  is  a  radically  temporal  process.  The  real  centers  of 
initiation  in  it  are  creatively  intelligent  individuals  whose  eco- 
nomic character  as  such  expresses  itself  not  in  "absolute"  margi- 
nal registrations  but  in  price  estimates. 

On  the  priority  of  price  to  value  I  venture  to  claim  the  sup- 
port of  A.  A.  Young,  "Some  Limitations  of  the  Value  Con- 
cept," Quart  Joum.  Econ.,  Vol.  XXV,  p.  409  (esp.  pp.  417-19). 
IncidentaUy,  I  suspect  the  attempt  to  reconstruct  ethical 
theory  as  a  branch  of  what  is  called  Werttheorie  to  be  a  mistake 
and  likely  to  result  only  in  useless  and  misleading  terminology. 


'4 
,1 


PHASES  OF  THE  ECONOMIC  INTEREST     341 

of  the  priority  of  price-estimation  or  exchange  value  is 
true,  it  seems  evident  that  there  can  be  no  line  of  de- 
markation  drawn  (except  for  doubtfully  expedient  peda- 
gogical purposes)  between  (1)  "  Subjective  valuations  '' 
with    which    individuals    are   conceived    to   come    to    a 
market  and  (2)  a  mechanical  equilibration  of  demand 
and  supply  which  it  is  the  distinctive  and  sole  function 
of  market  concourse  to   effect.     In  such  a  view   the 
market  process  in  strict  logic  must  be  timeless  as  it  is 
spaceless;  a  superposition  of  the  two  curves  is  effected 
and  they  are  seen  to  cross  in  a  common  point  which 
their  shapes   geometrically  predetermine.     Discussion, 
in  any  proper  sense,  can  be  no  inherent  part  of  a 
market  process  thus  conceived.     Once  in  the  market, 
buyers  and  sellers  can  only  declare  their  "  subjective 
exchange  valuations  "  of  the  commodity  and  await  the 
outcome  with  a  dispassionate  certainty  that  whoever 
may  gain  by  exchanging  at  the  price  to  be  determined, 
those  who  cannot  exchange  will  at  all  events  not  lose. 
But  considered  as  a  typical  likeness  of  men  who  have 
seen  a  thing  they  want  and  are  seeking  to  possess  it, 
this  picture  of  mingled  hope  and   resignation  is  not 
convincing.     Most  actual  offering  of  goods   for  sale 
that  one  observes  suggests  less  the  dispassionate  man- 
ner  of   the   physiologist   or   psychologist   taking   the 
measure   of  his   subject's   reactions,   sensibilities,   and 
preferences  than  the  more  masterful  procedure  of  the 
physician  or  the  hypnotist  who  seeks  to  uproot  or 
modify  or  reconstruct  them.    This  is  the  process  known 
in  economic  writing  since  Adam  Smith  as  "  the  hig- 
gling and  bargaining  of  the  market." 


542 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


In  fact,  the  individual's  ante-market  valuation,  when 
there  temporarily  is  one,  is  an  exchange  valuation  of 
the  constructive  or  experimental  and  therefore  (in  any 
significant  sense  of  the  word)  perfectly  objective  type, 
and  the  market  process  into  which  this  enters  is  only 
a  perfectly  homogeneous  temporal  continuation  of  it 
that  carries  the  individual  forward  to  decisive  action. 
There  is  no  more  reason  for  a  separation  here  than  for 
sundering  the  ante-experimental  sketching  out  of  an 
hypothesis  in  any  branch  of  research  from  the  work  of 
putting  the  hypothesis  to  experimental  test.  The  re- 
sults of  experiment  may  serve  in  a  marked  way  in  both 
sorts  of  process  to  elucidate  or  reconstruct  the  hy- 
pothesis. 

The  "  higgling  and  bargaining  of  the  market "  has 
been  accorded  but  scant  attention  by  economists.     It 
has  apparently  been  regarded  as  a  kind  of  irrelevance 
— a  comedy  part,  at  best,  in  the  serious  drama  of  in- 
dustry and  trade,  never  for  a  moment  hindering  the  sig- 
nificant movement  and  outcome  of  the  major  action. 
As  if  to  excuse  the  incompetence  of  this  treatment  (or 
as  another  phase  of  it)  theory  has  tended  to  lay  stress 
upon,  and  mildly  to  deplore,  certain  of  the  less  amiable 
and  engaging  aspects  of  the  process.     The  very  term 
indeed  as  used  by  Adam  Smith,  imported   a   certain 
aesthetic  disesteem,  albeit  tempered  with  indulgent  ap- 
probation on  other  grounds.     In  Bohm-Bawerk's  more 
modern  account  this  approbation  has  given  place  to  a 
neutral  tolerance.    A  certain  buyer,  he  says  (in  his  dis- 
cussion of  simple  "isolated"  exchange),  will  give  as 
much  as  thirty  pounds  for  a  horse ;  the  horse's  owner  will 


PHASES  OF  THE  ECONOMIC  INTEREST     343 

take  as  little  as  ten  pounds— these  are  predetermined 
and  fixed  valuations  brought  to  the  exchange  negotia- 
tions and  nothing  that  happens  in  the  game  of  wits  is 
conceived  to  modify  them.    The  price  will  then  be  fixed 
somewhere  between  these   limits.      But  how.?     "Here 
..."  we  read,  "  is  room  for  any  amount  of  *  higgling,' 
According  as  in  the  conduct  of  the  transaction  the  buyer 
or  the  seller  shows  the  greater  dexterity,  cunning,  ob- 
stinacy, power-of-persuasion,  or  such  like,  will  the  price 
be  forced  either  to  its  lower  or  to  its  upper  limit."  *    But 
the   higgling   cannot   touch   the   underlying   attitudes. 
Even  "  power  of  persuasion  "  is  only  one  part  of  "  skill 
in  bargaining,"  with  all  the  rest  and  like  all  the  rest ; 
if  it  were  more  than  this  there  would  be  for  Bohm- 
Bawerk  no  theoretically  grounded  price  limits  to  define 
the  range  of  accidental  settlement  and  the  whole  expla- 
nation, as  a  theory  of  price,  would  reduce  to  nullity.f 
•Potitive  Theory  of  Capital  (Eng.  trans.).     Bk.  IV,  Ch.  II. 
The  passage  is  unchanged  in  the  author's  latest  edition  (1912). 

t  It  is  pointed  out  (e.  g^  by  Davenport  in  his  Economics  of 
EtUerprise,  pp.  53-54)  that,  mathematically,  in  a  market  where 
large  numbers  of  buyers  and  sellers  confront  each  other  with  their 
respective  maximum  and  minimum  valuations  on  the  commodity 
this  interval  within  which  price  must  fall  becomes  indefinitely 
small  to  the  point  of  vanishing.  This  is  doubtless  in  accord  with 
the  law  of  probability,  but  it  would  be  an  obvious  fallacy  to  see 
in  this  any  manner  of  proof  or  presumption  that  therefore  the 
assumptions  as  to  the  nature  of  the  individual  valuations  upon 
which  such  analysis  proceeds  are  true.  In  a  large  market  where 
this  interval  is  supposed  to  be  a  vanishing  quantity  is  there  more 
or  less  higgling  and  bargaining  than  in  a  small  market  where 
the  interval  is  admittedly  perceptible?  And  if  there  i*  higgling 
and  bargaining  (op.  cit.,  pp.  96-97),  what  is  it  doing  that  is 
of  price-fixing  importance  unless  there  be  supposed  to  be  a  criti- 
cal interval  for  it  to  work  in?    Such  a  use  of  probability-theory 


844 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


With  this,  then,  appears  to  fall  away  all  ground  for 
a  one-sided,  or  even  a  sharply  two-sided,  conception  of 
the  process  of  fixation  of  market-values.  A  "  marginal 
utility"  theory  and  a  "cost  of  production"  theory 
of  market  price  alike  assume  that  the  factor  chosen 
as  the  ultimate  determinant  is  a  fixed  fact  defined  by 
conditions  which  the  actual  spatial  and  temporal  meet- 
ing-together of  buyers  and  sellers  in  the  market  cannot 
affect.  In  this  logical  sense,  the  chosen  determinant 
is  in  each  case  an  ante-market  or  extra-market  fact  and 
the  same  is  true  of  the  blades  of  Marshall's  famous  pair 

of  scissors. 

The  price  of  a  certain  article  let  us  say  is  $5.    Ac- 
cording to  the  current  type  of  analysis  this  is  the  price 
because,  intending  buyers'  and  sellers'  valuations  of  the 
article  being  just  what  they  are,  it  is  at  this  figure 
that  the  largest  number  of  exchanges  can  occur.    Were 
the  price  higher  there  would  be  more  persons  willing 
to  sell  than  to  buy ;  were  it  lower  there  would  be  more 
persons  willing  to  buy  than  to  sell.     At  $5  no  buyer 
or  seUer  who  means  what  he  says  about  his  valuation 
when  he  enters  the  market  goes  away  disappointed  or 
dissatisfied.      With    this    price    established    all    sellers 
whose  costs  of  production  prevent  their  conforming  to 
it  must  drop  out  of  the  market;  so  must  all  buyers 
whose  desire  for  the  article  does  not  warrant  their  paying 
so  much.     More  fundamentally  then,  Why  is  $5  the 

is  a  good  example  of  the  way  in  which  mathematics  may  be  used 
to  cover  the  false  assumptions  which  have  to  be  made  in  order  to 
make  a  mathematical  treatment  of  certain  sorts  of  subject-matter 
initially  plausible  as  description  of  concrete  fact 


PHASES  OF  THE  ECONOMIC  INTEREST     345 

price?  Is  it  because  intending  buyers  and  the  marginal 
buyer  in  particular  do  not  desire  the  article  more 
strongly?  Or  is  it  because  conditions  of  production, 
all  things  considered,  do  not  permit  a  lower  marginal 
unit  cost?  The  argument  might  seem  hopeless.  But 
the  advantage  is  claimed  for  the  principle  of  demand. 
Without  demand  arising  out  of  desires  expressive  of 
wants  there  would  simply  be  no  value,  no  production, 
and  no  price.  Demand  evokes  production  and  sanctions 
cost.  But  cost  expended  can  give  no  value  to  a  product 
that  no  one  wants. 

Does  it  follow,  however,  that  the  cost  of  a  commodity 
in  which  on  its  general  merits  I  have  come  to  take  a 
hypothetical  interest  can  in  no  wise  affect  my  actual 
price-offer  for  it?     Can  it  contribute  nothing  to  the 
preciser  definition  of  my  interest  which  is  eventually  to 
be  expressed  in  a  price  offer?     If  the  answer  is  "  No, 
for  how  can  this  external  fact  affect  the  strength  of 
your  desire  for  the  object?  "—then  the  reason  given 
begs  the  question  at  issue.    Is  my  interest  in  the  object 
an  interest  in  the  object  alone?    And  is  the  cost  of  the 
object  a  fact  for  me  external  and  indifferent?     It  is, 
at  all  events,  not  uncommon  to  be  assured  that  an  arti- 
cle "  cannot  be  produced  for  less,"  that  one  or  another 
of  its  elements  of  cost  is  higher  than  would  be  natural 
to  suppose.     Not  always  scientifically  accurate,  such 
assurances  express  an  evident  confidence  that  they  will 
not  be  without  effect  upon  a  hesitant  but  fair-minded 
purchaser.     And  in  other  ways  as  well,  the  position 
of  sellers  in  the  market  is  not  so  defenseless  as  a  strict 
utility  theory  of  price  conceives — apart  from  the  stand- 


•     1 


346  CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 

point  of  an  abstract  "  normality  "  that  can  never  con- 
trive to  get  itself  realized  in  empirical  fact.*    It  is  true 
that,  in  general,  one  tends  to  purchase  an  article  of  a 
given  familiar  kind  where  its  price,  all  things  considered, 
is  lowest.      In   consequence  the  less   "capable"  pro- 
ducers or  sellers  must  go  to  the  wall.     But  the  fact 
seems   mainly   "regulative"   and   of   subordinate   im- 
portance.   Is  it  equally  certain  that  as  between  branches 
of  expenditure,   such   as   clothing,   food,  and   shelter, 
children,  books,  and  "  social "  intercourse,  the  shares 
of  income  we  expend  upon  them  or  the  marginal  prices 
we  are  content  to  pay  express  the  original  strength  of 
separate  and  unmodified  extra-market  interests?     On 
the  contrary  we  have  paid  in  the  past  what  we  have 
had  to  pay,  what  we  have  deemed  just  and  reasonable, 
what  we  have  been  willing  experimentally  to  hazard 
upon  the  possibility  of  the  outlay's  proving  to  have 
been  worth  while.    In  these  twilight-zones  of  indetermi- 

♦As    I    have   elsewhere   argued    ("Subjective    and    Exchange 
Value,"  Journ.  Pol  Econ.,  Vol.  IV,  pp.  227-30).    By  the  same 
token,  I  confess  skepticism  of  the  classical  English  doctrine  that 
cost  can  affect  price  only  through  its  effect  upon  quantity  pro- 
duced.    "If  all  the  commodities   used  by  man,"  wrote   Senior 
(quoted  by  Davenport,  op.  cit.,  p.  58),  "were  supplied  by  nature 
without  any  interference  whatever  of  human  labor,  but  were  sup- 
plied in  precisely  the  same  amounts  that  they  now  are,  there 
is  no  reason  to  suppose  either  that  they  would  cease  to  be  valua- 
ble  or  would  exchange  at  any  other  than  the  present  proportions." 
But  is  this  inductive  evidence  or  Ulustrative  rhetoric?    One  won- 
ders, indeed,  whether  private  property  would  ever  have  developed 
or  how  long  modern  society  would  tolerate  it  if  all  wealth  were 
the  gift  of  nature  instead  of  only  some  of  it  (that  part,  of  course, 
which  requires  no  use  of  produced  capital  goods  for  its  appro- 
ipriation). 


PHASES  OF  THE  ECONOMIC  INTEREST     347 

nation,  cost  as  well  as  other  factors  of  supply  have 
had  their  opportunity.  Shall  we  nevertheless  insist  that 
our  "  demands  "  are  ideally  fixed,  even  though  in  falli- 
ble human  fact  they  are  more  or  less  indistinct,  yielding 
and  modifiable.?  On  the  contrary  they  are  "  in  princi- 
ple and  for  the  most  part  "  indeterminate  and  expectant 
of  suggested  experimental  shaping  from  the  supply  side 
of  the  market.  It  is  less  in  theory  than  in  fact  that 
they  have  a  salutary  tendency  (none  too  dependable) 
toward  rigidity. 

CONCLUSION 

§  19.    The   argument   may   now  be   summarily   re- 
viewed. 

I.  How  are  we  to  understand  the  acquisition,  by  an 
individual,  of  what  are  called  new  economic  needs  and 
interests.?  Except  by  a  fairly  obvious  fallacy  of  ret- 
rospection we  cannot  regard  this  phenomenon  as  a 
mere  arousal  of  so-called  latent  or  implicit  desires. 
New  products  and  new  means  of  production  afford 
"  satisfactions "  and  bring  about  objective  results 
which  are  unimaginable  and  therefore  unpredictable,  in 
any  descriptive  fashion,  in  advance.  In  a  realistic  or 
empirical  view  of  the  matter,  these  constitute  genuinely 
new  developments  of  personality  and  of  social  function, 
not  mere  unfoldings  of  a  preformed  logical  or  vital 
system.  "  Human  nature  "  is  modifiable  and  economic 
choice  and  action  are  factors  in  this  indivisible  process 
(§§  2-4).  Now  "logically"  it  would  seem  clear  that 
unless  a  new  commodity  is  an  object  of  desire  it  will 
not  be  made  or  paid  for.     On  the  other  hand,  with 


1' 


848 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


equal  "logic,"  a  new  commodity,  it  would  seem,  carir 
not  be  an  object  of  desire  because  all  desire  must  be 
for  what  we  already  know.    We  seem  confronted  with 
a  complete  impasse  (§5).     But  the  impasse  is  con- 
ceptual only.    We  have  simply  to  acknowledge  the  pat- 
ent fact  of  our  recognition  of  the  new  as  novel  and  our 
interest  in  the  new  in  its  outstanding  character   of 
novelty.    We  need  only  express  and  interpret  this  fact, 
instead  of  fancying  ourselves  bound  to  explain  it  away. 
It  is   an  interest  not  less  genuine  and  significant  in 
economic   experience   than   elsewhere    (§§  6,   7).      Its 
importance  lies  in  the  fact  that  it  obliges  us  to  regard 
what  is  called  economic  choice  not  as  a  balancing  of 
utilities,  marginal  or  otherwise,  but  as  a  process  of 
"  constructive  comparison."     The  new  commodity  and 
its  purchase  price  are  in  reality  symbols  for  alterna- 
tively possible  systems  of  life  and  action.    Can  the  old 
be  relinquished  for  the  new?     Before  this  question  is 
answered  each  system  may  be  criticized  and  interpreted 
from  the  standpoint  of  the  other,  each  may  be  supple- 
mented by  suggestion,  by  dictate  of  tradition  and  by 
impulsive  prompting,  by  inference,  and  by  conjecture. 
Finally   in  experimental  fashion   an   election  must  be 
made.     The  system  as  accepted  may  or  may  not  be,  in 
terms,  identical  with  one  of  the  initial  alternatives ;  it 
can  never  be  identical  in  full  meaning  and  perspective 
with  either  one.    And  in  the  end  we  have  not  chosen  the 
new  because  its  value,  as  seen  beforehand,  measured  more 
than  the  value  of  the  old,  but  we  now  declare  the  old, 
seen  in  retrospect,  to  have  been  worth  less  (§§  8-12). 
There  are  apparently  no  valid  objections  to  this  view  to 


PHASES  OF  THE  ECONOMIC  INTEREST     349 

be  drawn  from  the  current  logical  type  of  marginal- 
utility  analysis  (§  13). 

II.  Because  so-called  economic  "  choice  "  is  in  reality 
"  constructive  comparison  "  it  must  be  regarded  as  es- 
sentially ethical  in  import.  Ethics  and  economic  theory, 
instead  of  dealing  with  separate  problems  of  conduct, 
deal  with  distinguishable  but  inseparable  stages  belong- 
ing to  the  complete  analysis  of  most,  if  not  all,  problems 
(§  14).  This  view  suggests,  («)  that  no  reasons  in  ex- 
perience or  in  logic  exist  for  identifying  the  economic 
interest  with  an  attitude  of  exclusive  or  particularistic 
egoism  (§  16),  and  (6)  that  social  reformers  are  justi- 
fied in  their  assumption  of  a  certain  "  perfectibility  "  in 
human  nature — a  constructive  responsiveness  instead  of 
an  insensate  and  stubborn  inertia  (§  16).  Again,  in 
the  process  of  constructive  comparision  in  its  economic 
phase.  Price  or  Exchange  Value  is,  in  apparent  accord 
with  the  English  classical  tradition,  the  fundamental 
working  conception.  Value  as  "  absolute  "  is  essentially 
a  subordinate  and  "  conservative  "  conception,  belonging 
to  a  status  of  system  and  routine,  and  is  "  absolute  "  in 
a  purely  functional  sense  (§  17).  And  finally  con- 
structive comparison,  with  price  or  exchange  value  as 
its  dominant  conception,  is  clearly  nothing  if  not  a  mar- 
ket process.  In  the  nature  of  the  case,  then,  there  can 
be  no  such  ante-market  definiteness  and  rigidity  of  de- 
mand schedules  as  a  strictly  marginal-utility  theory  of 
market  prices  logically  must  require  (§  18). 

§  20.  In  at  least  two  respects  the  argument  falls 
short  of  what  might  be  desired.  No  account  is  given  of 
the  actual  procedure  of  constructive  comparison  and 


350 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


nothing  like  a  complete  survey  of  the  leading  ideas  and 
problems  of  economic  theory  is  undertaken  by  way  of 
verification.  But  to  have  supplied  the  former  in  any 
satisfactory  way  would  have  required  an  unduly  ex- 
tended discussion  of  the  more  general,  or  ethical, 
phases  of  constructive  comparison.  The  other  de- 
ficiency is  less  regrettable,  since  the  task  in  ques- 
tion is  one  that  could  only  be  hopefully  undertaken 
and  convincingly  carried  through  by  a  professional 
economist. 

For  the  present  purpose,  it  is  perhaps  enough  to 
have  found  in  our  economic  experience  and  behavior  the 
same  interest  in  novelty  that  is  so  manifest  in  other  de- 
partments of  life,  and  the  same  attainment  of  new  self- 
validating  levels  of  power  and  interest,  through  the  ac- 
quisition and  exploitation  of  the  novel.  In  our  economic 
experience,  no  more  than  elsewhere,  is  satisfaction  an 
ultimate  and  self-explanatory  term.  Satisfaction  car- 
ries with  it  always  a  reference  to  the  level  of  power  and 
interest  that  makes  it  possible  and  on  which  it  must  be 
measured.  To  seek  satisfaction  for  its  own  sake  or  to 
hinge  one's  interest  in  science  or  art  upon  their  ability 
to  serve  the  palpable  needs  of  the  present  moment — 
these,  together,  make  up  the  meaning  of  what  is  called 
Utilitarianism.  And  Utilitarianism  in  this  sense  (which 
is  far  less  what  Mill  meant  by  the  term  than  a  tradition 
he  could  never,  with  all  his  striving,  quite  get  free  of), 
this  type  of  Utilitarianism  spells  routine.  It  is  the 
surrender  of  initiative  and  control,  in  the  quest  for 
ends  in  life,  for  a  philistine  pleased  acceptance  of  the 
ends  that  Nature,  assisted  by  the  advertisement-writers, 


PHASES  OF  THE  ECONOMIC  INTEREST     351 

sets  before  us.  But  this  type  of  Utilitarianism  is  less 
frequent  in  actual  occurrence  than  its  vogue  in  popu- 
lar literature  and  elsewhere  may  appear  to  indicate.  As 
a  matter  of  fact,  we  more  often  look  to  satisfaction, 
not  as  an  end  of  effort  or  a  condition  to  be  preserved,  but 
as  the  evidence  that  an  experimental  venture  has  been 
justified  in  its  event.  And  this  is  a  widely  different 
matter,  for  in  this  there  is  no  inherent  implication  of 
a  habit-bound  or  egoistic  narrowness  of  interest  in  the 
conceiving  or  the  launching  of  the  venture. 

The  economic  interest,  as  a  function  of  intelligence, 
finds  its  proper  expression  in  a  valuation  set  upon  one 
thing  in  terms  of  another — a  valuation  that  is  either 
a  step  in  a  settled  plan  of  spending  and  consumption 
or  marks  the  passing  of  an  old  plan  and  our  embarka- 
tion on  a  new.  From  such  a  view  it  must  follow  that 
the  economic  betterment  of  an  individual  or  a  society 
can  consist  neither  in  the  accumulation  of  material 
wealth  alone  nor  in  a  more  diversified  technical  knowl- 
edge and  skill.  For  the  individual  or  for  a  coUectivist 
state  there  must  be  added  to  these  things  alertness  and 
imagination  in  the  personal  quest  and  discovery  of 
values  and  a  broad  and  critical  intelligence  in  making 
the  actual  trial  of  them.  Without  a  commensurate 
gain  in  these  qualities  it  will  avail  little  to  make  techni- 
cal training  and  industrial  opportunity  more  free  or 
even  to  make  the  rewards  of  effort  more  equitable  and 
secure.  But  it  has  been  one  of  the  purposes  of  this 
discussion  to  suggest  that  just  this  growth  in  outlook 
and  intelligence  may  in  the  long  run  be  counted  on — 
not  indeed  as  a  direct  and  simple  consequence  of  in- 


w- 


952 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


creasing  material  abundance  but  as  an  expression  of 
an  inherent  creativeness  in  man  that  responds  to 
discipline  and  education  and  will  not  fail  to  recognize 
the  opportunity  it  seeks. 

Real  economic  progress  is  ethical  in  aim  and  out- 
come. We  cannot  think  of  the  economic  interest  as  re- 
stricted in  its  exercise  to  a  certain  sphere  or  level  of 
effort — such  as  "  the  •rdinary  business  of  life  "  or  the 
gaining  of  a  "  livelihood  "  or  the  satisfaction  of  our 
so-called  "material"  wants,  or  the  pursuit  of  an 
enlightened,  or  an  unenlightened,  self-regard.  Eco- 
nomics has  no  special  relation  to  "  material "  or  even 
to  commonplace  ends.  Its  materialism  lies  not  in  its 
aim  and  tendency  but  in  its  problem  and  method.  It 
has  no  bias  toward  a  lower  order  of  mundane  values. 
It  only  takes  note  of  the  ways  and  degrees  of  depend- 
ence upon  mundane  resources  and  conditions  that 
values  of  every  order  must  acknowledge.  It  reminds  us 
that  morality  and  culture,  if  they  are  genuine,  must 
know  not  only  what  they  intend  but  what  they  cost. 
They  must  understand  not  only  the  direct  but  the  in- 
direct and  accidental  bearing  of  their  purposes  upon 
all  of  our  interests,  private  and  social,  that  they  are 
likely  to  affect.  The  detachment  of  the  economic  in- 
terest from  any  particular  level  or  class  of  values  is 
only  the  obverse  aspect  of  the  special  kind  of  concern 
it  has  with  values  of  every  sort.  The  very  generality 
of  the  economic  interest,  and  the  abstractness  of  the 
ideas  by  which  it  maintains  routine  or  safeguards 
change  in  our  experience,  are  what  make  it  unmistaka- 
bly ethical.     Without  specific  ends  of  its  own,  it  af- 


PHASES  OF  THE  ECONOMIC  INTEREST     ^5B 

lords  no  ground  for  dogmatism  or  apologetics.  And 
this  indicates  as  the  appropriate  task  of  economic 
theory  not  the  arrest  and  thwarting  but  the  steadying 
and  shaping  of  social  change. 


\  ^ 


THE  MORAL  LIFE 


855 


THE  MORAL  LIFE  AND  THE  CONSTRUCTION 
OF  VALUES  AND  STANDARDS  ♦ 

JAMES    HAYDEN    TUFTS 

Writing  about  ethics  has  tended  to  take  one  of  two 
directions.     On  the  one  hand  we  have  description  of 
conduct  in  terms  of  psychology,  or  anthropology.    On 
the  other  a  study  of  the  concepts  right  and  wrong, 
good  and  bad,  duty  and  freedom.     If  we  follow  the 
first  line  we  may   attempt   to  explain   conduct  psy- 
chologically by  showing  the  simple  ideas  or  feelings 
and  the  causal  connections  or  laws  of  habit  and  as- 
sociation out  of  which  actions  arise.     Or  anthropo- 
logically we  may  show  the  successive  stages  of  custom 
and  taboo,  or  the  family,  religious,  political,  legal,  and 
social  institutions  from  which  morality  has  emerged. 
But  we  meet  at  once  a  difficulty  if  we  ask  what  is  the 
bearing  of  this  description  and  analysis.     Will  it  aid 
me  in  the  practical  judgment  "  What  shall  I  do?  "    In 
physics  there  is  no  corresponding  difficulty.     To  ana- 
lyze gravity  enables  us  to  compute  an  orbit,  or  aim  a 
gun ;  to  analyze  electric  action  is  to  have  the  basis  for 
lighting  streets   and  carrying  messages.     It  assumes 
the  uniformity  of  nature  and  takes  no  responsibility  as 
to  whether  we  shall  aim  guns  or  whether  our  messages 

•Certain  points  in  this  discussion  have  been  raised  in  two 
papers,  entitled,  "The  Present  Task  of  Ethical  Theory,"  Int, 
Jour,  of  Ethics,  XX,  and  "  Ethical  Value,"  Jour,  of  Phil.,  Pty. 
and  Scientific  Methods,  V,  p.  517.  ' 

854 


shall  be  of  war  or  of  peace.  Whereas  in  ethics  it  is 
claimed  that  the  elements  are  so  changed  by  their 
combination — that  the  process  is  so  essential  a  factor — 
that  no  prediction  is  certain.  And  it  is  also  claimed 
that  the  ends  themselves  are  perhaps  to  be  changed  as 
well  as  the  means.  Stated  otherwise,  suppose  that  man- 
kind has  passed  through  various  stages,  can  mere  obser- 
vation of  these  tell  me  what  next.?  Perhaps  I  don't  care 
to  repeat  the  past;  how  can  I  plan  for  a  better  future? 
Or  grant  that  I  may  discover  instinct  and  emotion,  habit 
and  association  in  my  thinking  and  willing,  how  will 
this  guide  me  to  direct  my  thinking  and  willing  to  right 
ends? 

The  second  method  has  tended  to  examine  concepts. 
Good  is  an  eternal,  changeless  pattern;  it  is  to  be  dis- 
covered by  a  vision;  or  right  and  good  are  but  other 
terms  for  nature's  or  reason's  universal  laws  which  are 
timeless  and  wholly  unaffected  by  human  desires  or  pas- 
sions; moral  nature  is  soul,  and  soul  is  created  not 
built  up  of  elements, — such  were  some  of  the  older  ab- 
solutisms. Right  and  good  are  unique  concepts  not  to 
be  resolved  or  explained  in  terms  of  anything  else, — 
this  is  a  more  modern  thesis  which  on  the  face  of  it 
may  appear  to  discourage  analysis.  The  ethical  world 
is  a  world  of  "  eternal  values."  Philosophy  "  by  tak- 
ing part  in  empirical  questions  sinks  both  itself  and 
them."  These  doctrines  bring  high  claims,  but  are  they 
more  valuable  fof  human  guidance  than  the  empirical 
method?  ♦ 

•Cf.  also  John  Dewey,  Influence  of  Darwin  upon  Philosophy, 
and  Dewey  and  Tufts,  Ethics,  Ch.  XVI. 


/ 


$56 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


THE  MORAL  LIFE 


S57 


**  The  knowledge  that  is  superhuman  only  is  ridic- 
ulous in  man."  No  man  can  ever  find  his  way  home 
with  the  pure  circle  unkss  he  has  also  the  art  of  the 
impure.  It  is  the  conviction  of  this  paper  that 
in  ethics,  as  in  knowledge,  thoughts  without  contents 
are  empty;  percepts  without  concepts  are  blind.  De- 
scription of  what  has  been — empiricism — is  futile  in 
itself  to  project  and  criticize.  Intuitions  and  deduc- 
tions a  priori  are  empty.  The  "  thoughts  "  of  ethics 
are  of  course  the  terms  right,  good,  ought,  worth,  and 
their  kin.  The  "  percepts  '*  are  the  instincts  and  emo- 
tions, the  desires  and  aspirations,  the  conditions  of 
time  and  place,  of  nature,  and  institutions. 

Yet  it  is  misleading  to  say  that  in  studying  the  his- 
tory of  morals  we  are  merely  empiricists,  and  can  hope 
to  find  no  criterion.  This  would  be  the  case  if  we  were 
studying  non-moral  beings.  But  moral  beings  have  to 
some  degree  guided  life  by  judgments  and  not  merely 
followed  impulse  or  habit.  Early  judgments  as  to 
taboos,  customs,  and  conduct  may  be  crude  and  in  need 
of  correction;  they  are  none  the  less  judgments.  Over 
and  over  we  find  them  reshaped  to  meet  change  from 
hunting  to  agriculture,  from  want  to  plenty,  from  war 
to  peace,  from  small  to  large  groupings.  Much  more 
clearly  when  we  consider  civilized  peoples,  the  interac- 
tion between  reflection  and  impulse  becomes  patent.  To 
study  this  interaction  can  be  regarded  as  futile  for  the 
future  only  if  we  discredit  all  past  moral  achievement. 

Those  writers  who  have  based  their  ethics  upon  con- 
cepts have  frequently  expressed  the  conviction  that  the 
security  of  morality  depends  upon  the  question  whether 


good  and  right  are  absolute  and  eternal  essences  inde- 
pendent of  human  opinion  or  volition.  A  different 
source  of  standards  which  to  some  off^ers  more  promise 
for  the  future  is  the  fact  of  the  moral  life  as  a  con- 
stant process  of  forming  and  reshaping  ideals  and  of 
bringing  these  to  bear  upon  conditions  of  existence. 
To  construct  a  right  and  good  is  at  least  a  process 
tending  to  responsibility,  if  this  construction  is  to  be 
for  the  real  world  in  which  we  must  live  and  not  merely 
for  a  world  of  fancy  or  caprice.  It  is  not  the  aim  of 
this  paper  to  give  a  comprehensive  outline  of  ethical 
method.  Four  factors  in  the  moral  life  will  be  pointed 
out  and  this  analysis  will  be  used  to  emphasize  espe- 
cially certain  social  and  constructive  aspects  of  our 
concepts  of  right  and  good. 


The  four  factors  which  it  is  proposed  to  emphasize 
are  these: 

(1)  Life  as  a  biological  prpcess  involving  relation 
to  nature,  with  all  that  this  signifies  in  the  equipment 
of  instincts,  emotions,  and  selective  activity  by  which 
life  maintains  itself. 

(2)  Interrelation  with  other  human  beings,  includ- 
ing on  the  one  han3  associating,  grouping,  mating, 
communicating,  cooperating,  commanding,  obeying, 
worshiping,  adjudicating,  and  on  the  psychological 
side  the  various  instincts,  emotions,  susceptibilities  to 
personal  stimulation  and  appropriate  responses  in  lan- 
guage and  behavior  which  underlie  or  are  evoked  by  the 
life  in  common. 


358 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


(3)  Intelligence  and  reason,  through  which  experi- 
ence is  interrelated,  viewed  as  a  whole,  enlarged  in 
imagination. 

(4)  The  process  of  judgment  and  choice,  in  which 
different  elements  are  brought  together,  considered  in 
one  conscious  universe,  evaluated  or  measured,  thereby 
giving  rise  reciprocally  to  a  self  on  the  one  hand  and 
to  approved  or  chosen  objects  on  the  other, 

(1)    Life.     Life  is  at  least  the  raw  material  of  all 
values,  even  if  it  is  not  in  itself  entitled  to  be  called 
good   without  qualification.      For   in   the   process   of 
nourishing  and  protecting  itself,  the  plant  or  animal, 
selects  and  in  the  case  of  higher  animals,  manipulates ; 
it  adapts  itself  to  nature  and  adapts  nature  to  itself; 
it  shows  reciprocal  relation  of  means  to  end,  of  whole  to 
part.     It  foreshadows  the  conscious  processes  in  so 
many  ways  that  men  have  always  been  trying  to  read 
back  some  degree  of  consciousness.     And  life  in  the 
animal,  at  least,  is  regarded  as  having  experiences  of 
pleasure  and  pain,  and  emotions  of  fear,  anger,  shame, 
and  sex,  which  are  an  inseparable  aspect  of  values.     If 
it  is  not  the  supreme  or  only  good,  if  men  freely  sacri- 
fice it  for  other  ends,  it  is  none  the  less  an  inevitable 
factor.      Pessimistic   theories    indeed   have   contended 
that  life  is  evil  and  have  sought  to  place  good  in  a  will- 
less  Nirvana.     Yet  such  theories  make  limited  appeal. 
Their  protest  is  ultimately  not  against  life  as  life  but 
against  life  as  painful.    And  their  refutation  is  rather 
to   be   intrusted   to   the   constructive   possibilities   of 
freer  life  than  to  an  analysis  of  concepts. 


THE  MORAL  LIFE 


359 


I 


Another  class  of  theories  which  omit  life  from  the 
good  is  that  which  holds  to  abstractly  ontological  con- 
cepts of  good  as  an  eternal  essence  or  form.  It  must 
be  remembered,  however,  that  the  idea  of  good  was  not 
merely  a  fixed  essence.  It  was  also  for  Plato  the  self- 
moving  and  the  cause  of  all  motion.  And  further, 
Plato  evidently  believed  that  life,  the  very  nature  of 
the  soul,  was  itself  in  the  class  of  supreme  values  along 
with  God  and  the  good.  The  prize  of  immortality  was 
xaXov  and  the  hope  great.  And  with  Aristotle  and  his 
followers  the  good  of  contemplation  no  less  truly  than 
the  good  of  action  had  elements  of  value  derived  from 
the  vital  process.  Such  a  mystic  as  Spinoza,  who  finds 
good  in  the  understanding  values  this  because  in  it  man 
is  "  active,"  and  would  unite  himself  with  the  All  be- 
cause in  God  is  Power  and  Freedom.  The  Hebrew 
prophet  found  a  word  capable  of  evoking  great  ethical 
values  when  he  urged  his  countrymen  to  "  choose  life," 
and  Christian  teaching  found  in  the  conception  of  "  eter- 
nal life  "  an  ideal  of  profound  appeal.  It  is  not  sur- 
prising that  with  his  biological  interests  Spencer  should 
have  set  up  life  of  greatest  length  and  breadth  as  a  goal. 

The  struggle  of  the  present  war  emphasizes  tre- 
mendously two  aspects  of  this  factor  of  life.  National 
life  is  an  ideal  which  gets  its  emotional  backing  largely 
from  the  imagery  of  our  physical  life.  For  any  one  of 
the  small  nations  involved  to  give  up  its  national  life 
— ^whatever  the  possibilities  of  better  organized  in- 
dustry or  more  comfortable  material  conditions — 
seems  to  it  a  desperate  alternative.  Self-defense  is  re- 
garded by  the  various  powers  at  war  as  a  complete 


360 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


justification  not  merely  for  armed  resistance  or  attack 
but  for  ruthless  acts.  And  if  we  are  tempted  to  say 
that  the  war  involves  a  prodigal  waste  of  individual 
life  on  a  scale  never  known  before,  we  are  at  the  same 
time  compelled  to  recognize  that  never  before  has  the 
bare  destruction  of  life  aroused  such  horror. 

For  never  before  has  peace  set  its  forces  so  de- 
terminedly to  protect  life.  The  span  of  human  life  has 
been  lengthened:  the  wastefulness  of  accident  and  dis- 
ease has  been  magnified.  The  dumb  acquiescence  with 
which  former  generations  accepted  the  death  of  infants 
and  children  and  those  in  the  prime  of  life  has  given 
way  to  active  and  increasingly  successful  efforts  to 
preserve.  The  enormous  increase  in  scientific  study  of 
biology,  including  eugenics,  reflects  not  only  an  ad- 
vance of  science  but  a  trend  in  morality.  It  is  scarcely 
conceivable  that  it  should  grow  less  in  absolute  import- 
ance, whatever  crises  may  temporarily  cause  its  de- 
preciation relatively  to  other  values. 

One  exception  to  the  growing  appreciation  calls  for 
notice — the  interest  in  immortality  appears  to  be  less 
rather  than  greater.  The  strong  belief  in  life  beyond 
the  grave  which  since  the  days  of  ancient  Egypt  has 
prevailed  in  the  main  stream  of  Western  culture  seems 
not  only  to  be  afl^ected  by  the  scientific  temper  of  the 
day,  but  also  to  be  subject  to  a  shift  in  interest.  This 
may  be  in  part  a  reaction  from  other-worldliness.  In 
part  it  may  be  due  to  loss  of  fervor  for  a  theological 
picture  of  a  future  heaven  of  a  rather  monotonous  sort 
and  may  signify  not  so  much  loss  of  interest  in  life 
as  desire  for  a  more  vital  kind  of  continuance.     It  is 


THE  MORAL  LIFE 


861 


not  true  that  all  that  a  man  hath  will  he  give  for  his 
life,  yet  it  is  true  that  no  valuing  process  is  intelligi- 
ble that  leaves  out  life  with  its  impulses,  emotions,  and 
desires  as  the  first  factor  to  be  reckoned  with. 

(2)  The  second  factor  is  the  life  in  common,  with 
its  system  of  relations,  and  its  corresponding  instincts, 
emotions,  and  desires. 

So  much  has  been  written  in  recent  years  on  the  so- 
cial nature  of  man  that  it  seems  unnecessary  to 
elaborate  the  obvious.  Protest  has  even  been  raised 
against  the  exaggeration  of  the  social.  But  I  believe 
that  in  certain  points  at  least  we  have  not  yet  pene- 
trated to  the  heart  of  the  social  factor,  and  its  sig- 
nificance for  morals. 

So  far  as  the  moral  aspect  is  concerned  I  know 
nothing  more  significant  than  the  attitude  of  the  Com- 
mon Law  as  set  forth  by  Professor  Pound.*  This  has 
sought  to  base  its  system  of  duties  on  relations.  The 
relation  which  was  prominent  in  the  Middle  Ages  was 
that  of  landlord  and  tenant;  other  relations  are  those 
of  principal  and  agent,  of  trustee,  etc.  An  older  re- 
lation was  that  of  kinship.  The  kin  was  held  for  the 
wergeld;  the  goel  must  avenge  his  next  of  kin;  the 
father  must  provide  for  prospective  parents-in-law; 
the  child  must  serve  the  parents.  Duty  was  the  legal 
term  for  the  relation.  In  all  this  there  is  no  romanti- 
cism, no  exaggeration  of  the  social;  there  is  a  fair 
statement  of  the  facts  which  men  have  recognized  and 
acted  upon  the  world  over  and  in  all  times.  Individual- 
istic times  or  peoples  have  modified  certain  phases, 
*  International  Journal  of  Ethics,  XXV,  1914,  pp.  U2^. 


h 


362 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


The  Roman  law  sought  to  ground  many  of  its  duties 
in  the  contract,  the  will  of  the  parties.  But  covenants 
by  no  means  exhaust  duties.  And  according  to  Pro- 
fessor Pound  the  whole  course  of  English  and  Ameri- 
can law  today  is  belying  the  generalization  of  Sir 
Henry  Maine,  that  the  evolution  of  law  is  a  progress 
from  status  to  contract.  We  are  shaping  law  of  in- 
surance, of  public  service  companies,  not  by  contract 
but  by  the  relation  of  insurer  and  insured,  of  public 
utility  and  patron. 

Psychologically,  the  correlate  of  the  system  of  rela- 
tions is  the  set  of  instincts  and  emotions,  of  capacity 
for  stimulation  and  response,  which  presuppose  society 
for  their  exercise  and  in  turn  make  society  possible. 
There  can  be  no  question  as  to  the  reality  and  strength 
of  these  in  both  animals  and  men.  The  bear  will  fight 
for  her  young  more  savagely  than  for  her  life.  The 
human  mother's  thoughts  center  far  more  intensely 
upon  her  offspring  than  upon  her  own  person.  The 
man  who  is  cut  dead  by  all  his  acquaintance  suffers 
more  than  he  would  from  hunger  or  physical  fear.  The 
passion  of  sex  frequently  overmasters  every  instinct  of 
individual  prudence.  The  majority  of  men  face  pov- 
erty and  live  in  want;  relatively  few  prefer  physical 
comfort  to  family  ties.  Aristotle's  <pikla  is  the  oftenest 
quoted  recognition  of  the  emotional  basis  of  common 
life,  but  a  statement  of  Kant's  earlier  years  is  particu- 
larly happy.  "  The  point  to  which  the  lines  of  direc- 
tion of  our  impulses  converge  is  thus  not  only  in  our- 
selves, but  there  are  besides  powers  moving  us  in  the 
will  of  others  outside  of  ourselves.     Hence  arise  the 


THE  MORAL  LIFE 


S6s 


moral  impulses  which  often  carry  us  away  to  the  dis- 
comfiture of  selfishness,  the  strong  law  of  duty,  and  the 
weaker  of  benevolence.  Both  of  these  wring  from  us 
many  a  sacrifice,  and  although  selfish  inclinations  now 
and  then  preponderate  over  both,  these  still  never  fail 
to  assert  their  reality  in  human  nature.  Thus  we  rec- 
ognize that  in  our  most  secret  motives,  we  are  depend- 
ent upon  the  rule  of  the  general  will."  ♦ 

The  "  law  of  duty,"  and  I  believe  we  may  add,  the 
conception  of  right,  do  arise  objectively  in  the  social 
relations  as  the  common  law  assumes  and  subjectively 
in  the  social  instincts,  emotions,  and  the  more  intimate 
social  consciousness  which  had  not  been  worked  out  in 
the  time  of  Kant  as  it  has  been  by  recent  authors. 
This  point  will  receive  further  treatment  later,  but  I 
desire  to  point  out  in  anticipation  that  if  right  and 
duty  have  their  origin  in  this  social  factor  there  is  at 
least  a  presumption  against  their  being  subordinate 
ethically  to  the  conception  of  good  as  we  find  them  in 
certain  writers.  If  they  have  independent  origin  and 
are  the  outgrowth  of  a  special  aspect  of  life  it  is  at 
least  probable  that  they  are  not  to  be  subordinated  to 
the  good  unless  the  very  notion  of  good  is  itself  recip- 
rocally modified  by  right  in  a  way  that  is  not  usually 
recognized  in  teleological  systems. 

(3)  Intelligence  and  reason  imply  {a)  considering 
the  proposed  act  or  the  actually  performed  act  as  a 
whole  and  in  its  relations.  Especially  they  mean  con- 
sidering consequences.  In  order  to  foresee  conse- 
quences there  is  required  not  only  empirical  observa- 

•  Dreams  of  a  Spirit  Seer. 


d64 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


tion  of  past  experience,  not  only  deduction  from  al- 
ready formulated  concepts — as  when  we  say  that  in- 
justice will  cause  hard  feelings  and  revolt — ^but  that 
rarer  quality  which  in  the  presence  of  a  situation  dis- 
cerns a  meaning  not  obvious,  suggests  an  idea,  **  in- 
justice," to  interpret  the  situation.  Situations  are 
neither  already  labeled  "  unjust,"  nor  are  they  ob- 
viously unjust  to  the  ordinary  mind.  Analysis  into 
elements  and  rearrangement  of  the  elements  into  a  new 
synthesis  are  required.  This  is  eminently  a  synthetic 
or  "  creative  "  activity.  Further  it  is  evident  that  the 
activity  of  intelligence  in  considering  consequences  im- 
plies not  only  what  we  call  reasoning  in  the  narrower 
sense  but  imagination  and  feeling.  For  the  conse- 
quences of  an  act  which  are  of  importance  ethically  are 
consequences  which  are  not  merely  to  be  described  but 
are  to  be  imagined  so^ vividly  as  to  be  felt,  whether  they 
are  consequences  that  affect  ourselves  or  affect  others. 
(6)  But  it  would  be  a  very  narrow  intelligence  that 
should  attempt  to  consider  only  consequences  of  a  sin- 
gle proposed  act  without  considering  also  other  possi- 
ble acts  and  their  consequences.  The  second  important 
characteristic  of  intelligence  is  that  it  considers  either 
other  means  of  reaching  a  given  end,  or  other  ends,  and 
by  working  out  the  consequences  of  these  also  has  the 
basis  for  deliberation  and  choice.  The  method  of 
"  multiple  working  hypotheses,"  urged  as  highly  im- 
portant in  scientific  investigation,  is  no  less  essential 
in  the  moral  field.  To  bring  several  ends  into  the  field 
of  consideration  is  the  characteristic  of  the  intelligent, 
or  as  we  often  say,  the  open-minded  man.     Such  con- 


THE  MORAL  LIFE 


S65 


sideration  as  this  widens  the  capacity  of  the  agent  and 
marks  him  off  from  the  creature  of  habit,  of  prejudice, 
or  of  instinct. 

(c)  Intelligence  implies  considering  in  two  senses 
all  persons  involved,  that  is,  it  means  taking  into  ac-^ 
count  not  only  how  an  act  will  affect  others  but  also 
how  others  look  at  it.  It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  say 
that  this  activity  of  intelligence  cannot  be  cut  off  from 
its  roots  in  social  intercourse.  It  is  by  the  processes 
of  give  and  take,  of  stimulus  and  response,  in  a  social 
medium  that  this  possibility  of  looking  at  things  from  a 
different  angle  is  secured.  And  once  more  this  different 
angle  is  not  gained  by  what  in  the  strict  sense  could 
be  called  a  purely  intellectual  operation,  although 
it  has  come  to  be  so  well  recognized  as  the  necessary 
equipment  for  dealing  successfully  with  conditions  that 
we  commonly  characterize  the  person  as  stupid  who  does 
not  take  account  of  what  others  think  and  feel  and  how 
they  will  react  to  a  projected  line  of  conduct.  This  social 
element  in  intelligence  is  to  a  considerable  degree  implied 
in  the  term  "  reasonable,"  which  signifies  not  merely  that 
a  man  is  logical  in  his  processes  but  also  that  he  is  ready 
to  listen  to  what  others  say  and  to  look  at  things  from 
their  point  of  view  whether  he  finally  accepts  it  or  not. 

The  broad  grounds  on  which  it  is  better  to  use  the 
word  intelligence  than  the  word  reason  in  the  analysis 
with  which  we  are  concerned  are  two.  (1)  It  is  not  a 
question-begging  term  which  tends  to  commit  us  at  the 
outset  to  a  specific  doctrine  as  to  the  source  of  our 
judgments.  (2)  The  activity  of  intelligence  which  is 
now  most  significant  for  ethical  progress  is  not  sug- 


866 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


gested  by  the  term  reason,  for  unless  we  arbitrarily 
smuggle  in  under  the  term  practical  reason  the  whole 
activity  of  the  moral  consciousness  without  inquiry  as 
to  the  propriety  of  the  name  we  shall  be  likely  to  omit 
the  constructive  and  creative  efforts  to  promote  moral- 
ity by  positive  supplying  of  enlarged  education,  new 
sources  of  interest,  and  more  open  fields  for  develop- 
ment, by  replacing  haunting  fears  of  misery  with  posi- 
tive hopes,  and  by  suggesting  new  imagery,  new  ambi- 
tions in  the  place  of  sodden  indiff*erence  or  sensuality. 
The  term  reason  as  used  by  the  Stoics  and  by  Kant 
meant  control  of  the  passions  by  some  "  law  " — some  au- 
thority cosmic  or  logical.  It  prepared  for  the  inevi- 
table ;  it  forbade  the  private  point  of  view.  But  as  thus 
presenting  a  negative  aspect  the  law  was  long  ago  char- 
acterized by  a  profound  moral  genius  as  "  weak."  It 
has  its  value  as  a  schoolmaster,  but  it  is  not  in  itself 
capable  of  supplying  the  new  life  which  dissolves  the 
old  sentiment,  breaks  up  the  settled  evil  habit,  and  sup- 
plies both  larger  ends  and  effective  motives. 

If  we  state  human  progress  in  objective  fashion  we 
may  say  that  although  men  today  are  still  as  in  earlier 
times  engaged  in  getting  a  living,  in  mating,  in  rearing 
of  offspring,  in  fighting  and  adventure,  in  play,  and 
in  art,  they  are  also  engaged  in  science  and  invention, 
interested  in  the  news  of  other  human  activities  all 
over  the  world ;  they  are  adjusting  differences  by  judi- 
cial processes,  cooperating  to  promote  general  welfare, 
enjoying  refined  and  more  permanent  friendships  and 
affections,  and  viewing  life  in  its  tragedy  and  comedy 
with  enhanced  emotion  and  broader  sympathy.    Leav- 


THE  MORAL  LIFE 


867 


ing  out  of  consideration  the  work  of  the  religious  or 
artistic  genius  as  not  in  question  here,  the  great  ob- 
jective agencies  in  bringing  about  these  changes  have 
been  on  the  one  hand  the  growth  of  invention,  scientific 
method,  and  education,  and  on  the  other  the  increase 
in  human  intercourse  and  communication.  Reason 
plays  its  part  in  both  of  these  in  freeing  the  mind  from 
wasteful  superstitious  methods  and  in  analyzing  situa- 
tions and  testing  hypotheses,  but  the  term  is  inadequate 
to  do  justice  to  that  creative  element  in  the  formation 
of  hypotheses  which  finds  the  new,  and  it  tends  to  leave 
out  of  account  the  social  point  of  view  involved  in  the 
widening  of  the  area  of  human  intercourse.  More  will 
be  said  upon  this  point  in  connection  with  the  discus- 
sion of  rationalism. 

(4)  The  process  of  judgment  and  choice.  The  ele- 
ments are  not  the  sum.  The  moral  consciousness  is  not 
just  the  urge  of  life,  plus  the  social  relations,  plus  intelli- 
gence. The  process  of  moral  deliberation,  evaluation, 
judgment,  and  choice  is  itself  essential.  In  this  process 
are  born  the  concepts  and  standards  good  and  right, 
and  likewise  the  moral  self  which  utters  the  judgment. 
It  is  in  this  twofold  respect  synthetic,  creative.  It  is 
as  an  interpretation  of  this  process  that  the  concept  of 
freedom  arises.  Four  aspects  of  the  process  may  be 
noted. 

(a)  The  process  involves  holding  possibilities  of  ac- 
tion, or  objects  for  valuation,  or  ends  for  choice,  in 
consciousness  and  measuring  them  one  against  another 
in  a  simultaneous  field — or  in  a  field  of  alternating  ob- 
jects, any  of  which  can  be  continually  recalled.     One 


668 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


possibUity  after  another  may  be  tried  out  in  anticipa- 
tion and  its  relations  successively  considered,  but  the 
comparison  is  essential  to  the  complete  moral  con- 
sciousness. 

(6)  The  process  yields  a  universe  of  valued  objects 
as  distinguished  from  a  subjective  consciousness  of  de- 
sires and  feehngs.  We  say,  "  This  is  right,"  "  That  is 
good."  Every  "  is  "  in  such  judgments  may  be  denied 
by  an  "  is  not "  and  we  hold  one  alternative  to  be  true, 
the  other  false.  As  the  market  or  the  stock  exchange 
or  board  of  trade  fixes  values  by  a  meeting  of  buyers 
and  sellers  and  settles  the  price  of  wheat  accurately 
enough  to  enable  farmers  to  decide  how  much  land  to 
seed  for  the  next  season,  so  the  world  of  men  and 
women  who  must  live  together  and  cooperate,  or  fight 
and  perish,  forces  upon  consciousness  the  necessity  of 
adjustment.  The  preliminary  approaches  are  usually 
hesitant  and  subjective — like  the  offers  or  bids  in  the 
market — e.g.,  "  I  should  like  to  go  to  college ;  I  believe 
that  is  a  good  thing";  "  My  parents  need  my  help;  it 
does  not  seem  right  to  leave  them."  The  judgments 
finally  emerge.  "  A  college  education  is  good ;  "  "  It 
is  wrong  to  leave  my  parents  " — ^both  seemingly  objec- 
tive yet  conflicting,  and  unless  I  can  secure  both  I  must 
seemingly  forego  actual  objective  good,  or  commit  ac- 
tual wrong. 

(c)  The  process  may  be  described  also  as  one  of 
**  universalizing  "  the  judging  consciousness.  For  it  is 
a  counterpart  of  the  objective  implication  of  a  judg- 
ment that  it  is  not  an  affirmation  as  to  any  individual's 
opinion.     This  negative  characterization  of  the  judg- 


THE  MORAL  LIFE 


S69 


ment  is  commonly  converted  into  the  positive  doctrine 
that  any  one  who  is  unprejudiced  and  equally  well  in- 
formed would  make  the  same  judgment.  Strictly 
speaking  the  judgment  itself  represents  in  its  completed 
form  the  elimination  of  the  private  attitude  rather 
than  the  express  inclusion  of  other  judges.  But  in  the 
making  of  the  judgment  it  is  probable  that  this  elimina- 
tion of  the  private  is  reached  by  a  mental  reference  to 
other  persons  and  their  attitudes,  if  not  by  an  actual 
conversation  with  another.  It  is  dubious  whether  an 
individual  that  had  never  communicated  with  another 
would  get  the  distinction  between  a  private  subjective 
attitude  and  the  "  general "  or  objective. 

Moreover,  one  form  of  the  moral  judgment:  "This 
is  right,"  speaks  the  language  of  law — of  the  collec- 
tive judgment,  or  of  the  judge  who  hears  both  sides 
but  is  neither.  This  generalizing  or  universalizing  is 
frequently  supposed  to  be  the  characteristic  activity  of 
"  reason."  I  believe  that  a  comparison  with  the  kin- 
(dred  value  judgments  in  economics  supports  the  doc- 
trine that  in  judgments  as  to  the  good  as  well  as  in  those 
as  to  right,  there  is  no  product  of  any  simple  faculty, 
but  rather  a  synthetic  process  in  which  the  social  fac- 
tor is  prominent.  A  compelling  motive  toward  an  ob- 
jective and  universal  judgment  is  found  in  the  prac- 
tical conditions  of  moral  judgments.  Unless  men 
agree  on  such  fundamental  things  as  killing,  stealing, 
and  sex  relations  they  cannot  get  on  together.  Not 
that  when  I  say,  "  Killing  is  wrong,"  I  mean  to  affirm 
"I  agree  with  you  in  objecting  to  it";  but  that  the 
necessity  (a)  of  acting  as  if  I  either  do  or  do  not  ap- 


870 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


prove  it,  and  (b)  of  either  making  my  attitude  agree 
with  yours,  or  yours  agree  with  mine,  or  of  fighting 
it  out  with  you  or  with  the  whole  force  of  organized 
society,  compels  me  to  put  my  attitude  into  objective 
terms,  to  meet  you  and  society  on  a  common  platform. 
This  is  a  synthesis,  an  achievement.  To  attribute  the 
synthesis  to  any  faculty  of  "  practical  reason,'*  adds 
nothing  to  our  information,  but  tends  rather  to  ob- 
scure the  facts. 

(d)  The  process  is  thus  a  reciprocal  process  of 
valuing  objects  and  of  constructing  and  reconstruct- 
ing a  self.  The  object  as  first  imaged  or  anticipated 
undergoes  enlargement  and  change  as  it  is  put  into  re- 
lations to  other  objects  and  as  the  consequences  of 
adoption  or  rejection  are  tried  in  anticipation.  The 
self  by  reflecting  and  by  enlarging  its  scope  is  similarly 
enlarged.  It  is  the  resulting  self  which  is  the  final 
valuer.  The  values  of  most  objects  are  at  first  fixed 
for  us  by  instinct  or  they  are  suggested  by  the  ethos 
and  mores  of  our  groups — family,  society,  national  re- 
ligions, and  "  reign  under  the  appearance  of  habitual 
self-suggested  tendencies."  The  self  is  constituted  ac- 
cordingly. Collisions  with  other  selves,  conflicts  be- 
tween group  valuations  and  standards  and  individual 
impulses  or  desires,  failure  of  old  standards  as  applied 
to  new  situations,  bring  about  a  more  conscious  defini- 
tion of  purposes.  The  agent  identifies  himself  with 
these  purposes,  and  values  objects  with  reference  to 
them.  In  this  process  of  revaluing  and  defining,  of 
comparing  and  anticipation,  freedom  is  found  if  any- 
where.    For  if  the  process  is  a  real  one  the  elements 


THE  MORAL  LIFE 


371 


do  not  remain  unaffected  by  their  relation  to  each 
other  and  to  the  whole.  The  act  is  not  determined  by 
any  single  antecedent  or  by  the  sum  of  antecedents. 
It  is  determined  by  the  process.  The  self  is  not  made 
wholly  by  heredity,  or  environment.  It  is  itself  creat-  ' 
ing  for  each  of  its  elements  a  new  environment,  viz.,  the 
process  of  reflection  and  choice.  And  if  man  can 
change  the  heredity  of  pigeons  and  race  horses  by 
suitable  selection,  if  every  scientific  experiment  is  a 
varying  of  conditions,  it  is  at  least  plausible  that  man 
can  guide  his  own  acts  by  intelligence,  and  revise  his 
values  by  criticism. 

The  self  is  itself  creating  for  each  of  its  elements  a 
new  environment — this  is  a  fact  which  if  kept  in  mind 
will  enable  us  to  see  the  abstractness  and  fallacies  not 
merely  of  libertarianism  and  determinism,  but  of  sub- 
jectivism and  objectivism.  Subjective  or  "  inward  " 
theories  have  sought  standards  in  the  self;  but  in  re- 
garding the  self  as  an  entity  independent  of  such  a 
process  as  we  have  described  they  have  exposed  them- 
selves to  the  criticism  of  providing  only  private,  vari- 
able, accidental,  unauthoritative  sources  of  standards — 
instincts,  or  emotions,  or  intuitions.  The  self  of  the 
full  moral  consciousness,  however, — the  only  one  which 
can  claim  acceptance  or  authority — is  born  only  in  the 
process  of  considering  real  conditions,  of  weighing  and 
choosing  between  alternatives  of  action  in  a  real  world 
of  nature  and  persons.  Its  judgments  are  more  than 
subjective.  Objectivism  in  its  absolutist  and  abstract 
forms  assumes  a  standard — nature,  essence,  law — ^in- 
dependent of  process.    Such  a  standard  is  easily  shown 


372 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


to  be  free  from  anything  individual,  private,  or  chang- 
ing. It  is  universal,  consistent,  and  eternal,  in  fact  it 
has  many  good  mathematical  characteristics,  but  un- 
fortunately it  is  not  moral.  As  mathematical,  logical, 
biological,  or  what  not,  it  offers  no  standard  that  ap- 
peals to  the  moral  nature  as  authoritative  or  that  can 
help  us  to  find  our  way  home. 


If  we  are  dissatisfied  with  custom  and  habit  and  seek 
to  take  philosophy  for  the  guide  of  life  we  have  two  pos- 
sibilities: (1)  we  may  look  for  the  good,  and  treat 
right  and  duty  as  subordinate  concepts  which  indicate 
the  way  to  the  good,  that  is,  consider  them  as  good  as 
a  means,  or  (2)  we  may  seek  first  to  do  right  irrespec- 
tive of  consequences,  in  the  belief  that  in  willing  to  do 
right  we  are  already  in  possession  of  the  highest  good. 
In  either  case  we  may  consider  our  standards  and 
values  either  as  in  some  sense  fixed  or  as  in  the  mak- 
ing.* We  may  suppose  that  good  is  objective  and  ab- 
solute, that  right  is  discovered  by  a  rational  faculty,  or 
we  may  consider  that  in  regarding  good  as  objective 
we  have  not  made  it  independent  of  the  valuing  process 
and  that  in  treating  right  as  a  standard  we  have  not 
thereby  made  it  a  fixed  concept  to  be  discovered  by  the 
pure  intellect.  The  position  of  this  paper  will  be  (1) 
that  good  while  objective  is  yet  objective  as  a  value  and 
not  as  an  essence  or  physical  fact;  (2)  that  a  social 
factor  in  value  throws  light  upon  the  relation  between 
moral  and  other  values;  (3)  that  right  is  not  merely  a 
♦  Of.  A.  W.  Moore,  Pragmatism  and  Its  Critia,  257-78. 


THE  MORAL  LIFE 


37S 


means  to  the  good  but  has  an  independent  place  in  the 
moral  consciousness;  (4)  that  right  while  signifying 
order  does  not  necessarily  involve  a  timeless,  eternal 
order  since  it  refers  to  an  order  of  personal  relations; 
(6)  that  the  conception  of  right  instead  of  being  a 
matter  for  pure  reason  or  even  the  "  cognitive  faculty  '* 
shows  an  intimate  blending  of  the  emotional  and  intel- 
lectual and  that  this  appears  particularly  in  the  con- 
ception of  the  reasonable. 

(1)  We  begin  with  the  question  of  the  synthetic  and 
objective  character  of  the  good.  With  G.  E.  Moore 
as  with  the  utilitarians  the  good  Is  the  ultimate  con- 
cept. Right  and  duty  are  means  to  the  good.  Moore 
and  Rashdall  also  follow  SIdgwick  in  regarding  good 
as  unique,  that  is,  as  "  synthetic."  SIdgwick  empha- 
sized in  this  especially  the  point  that  moral  value  can- 
not be  decided  by  physical  existence  or  the  course  of 
evolution,  nor  can  the  good  be  regarded  as  meaning  the 
pleasant.  Moore  and  Russell  reinforce  this.  However 
true  it  may  be  that  pleasure  Is  one  among  other  good 
things  or  that  life  is  one  among  other  good  things, 
good  does  not  mean  either  pleasure  or  survival.  Good 
means  just  "  good." 

A  similar  thought  underlies  Croce's  division  of  the 
Practical  into  the  two  spheres  of  the  Economic  and 
the  Ethical.  "  The  economic  activity  is  that  which 
wills  and  effects  only  wRat  corresponds  to  the  condi- 
tions of  fact  In  which  a  man  finds  himself;  the  ethical 
activity  is  that  which,  although  it  correspond  to  these 
conditions,  also  refers  to  something  that  transcends 


374 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


them.  To  the  first  correspond  what  are  called  indi- 
vidual ends,  to  the  second  universal  ends ;  the  one  gives 
rise  to  the  judgment  concerning  the  greater  or  less  co- 
herence of  the  action  taken  in  itself,  the  other  to  that 
concerning  its  greater  or  less  coherence  in  respect  to 
the  universal  end,  which  transcends  the  individual."  * 
Utilitarianism  is  according  to  Croce  an  attempt  to  re- 
duce the  Ethical  to  the  Economic  form,  although  the 
utilitarians  as  men  attempt  in  various  ways  to  make 
a  place  for  that  distinction  which  as  philosophers  they 
would  suppress.  "  Man  is  not  a  consumer  of  pleasures* 
He  is  a  creator  of  life."  With  this  claim  of  the  distinc- 
tive, synthetic,  character  of  the  moral  consciousness 
and  of  the  impossibility  of  testing  the  worth  of  ideals 
by  cosmic  laws,  or  by  gratification  of  particular  wants 
as  measured  by  pleasure,  I  have  no  issue.  The 
analysis  of  the  moral  judgment  made  above  points  out 
just  how  it  is  that  good  is  synthetic.  It  is  synthetic 
in  that  it  represents  a  measuring  and  valuing  of  ends 
— instinctive  and  imagined,  individual  and  social — 
against  each  other  and  as  part  of  a  whole  to  which  a 
growing  self  corresponds.  It  is  synthetic  in  that  it 
represents  not  merely  a  process  of  evaluating  ends 
which  match  actually  defined  desires,  but  also  a  process 
in  which  the  growing  self,  dissatisfied  with  any  ends  al- 
ready in  view,  gropes  for  some  new  definition  of  ends 
that  shall  better  respond  to  its  living,  creative  ca- 
pacity, its  active  synthetic  character.  Good  is  the  con- 
cept for  just  this  valuing  process  as  carried  on  by  a 
conscious  being  that  is  not  content  to  take  its  desire 
*  Croce,  Philosophy  of  the  Practical,  pp.  S12  f. 


THE  MORAL  LIFE 


375 


as  ready  made  by  its  present  construction,  but  is 
reaching  out  for  ends  that  shall  respond  to  a  growing, 
expanding,  inclusive,  social,  self.  It  expresses  value  as 
value. 

Value  as  value!  not  as  being;  nor  as  independent 
essence;  nor  as  anything  static  and  fixed.  For  a  syn- 
thetic self,  a  living  personality,  could  find  no  supreme 
value  in  the  complete  absence  of  valuing,  in  the  cessa- 
tion of  life,  in  the  negation  of  that  very  activity  of  pro- 
jection, adventure,  construction,  and  synthesis  in  which 
it  has  struck  out  the  concept  good.  A  theory  of  ethics 
which  upholds  the  synthetic  character  of  the  good  may 
be  criticized  as  being  not  synthetic  enough  if  it  fails 
to  see  that  on  the  basis  of  the  mutual  determination 
of  percepts  and  concepts,  of  self  and  objects,  the  syn- 
thetic character  of  the  process  must  be  reflected  in  the 
ultimate  meaning  of  the  category  which  symbolizes  and 
incorporates  the  process. 

(2)  We  may  find  some  light  upon  the  question  how 
moral  value  gets  its  distinctive  and  unique  character, 
and  how  it  comes  to  be  more  "  objective  "  than  eco- 
nomic value  if  we  consider  some  of  the  social  factors 
in  the  moral  judgment.  For  although  the  concept 
good  is  rooted  in  the  life  process  with  its  selective  ac- 
tivity and  attending  emotions  it  involves  a  subtle  social 
element,  as  well  as  the  more  commonly  recognized  fac- 
tors of  intelligence. 

Within  the  fundamental  selective  process  two  t3rpes 
of  behavior  tend  to  differentiate  in  response  to  two  gen- 
eral sorts  of  stimulation.  One  sort  is  simpler,  more 
monotonous,  more  easily  analyzable.    Response  to  such 


376 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


stimulation,  or  treatment  of  objects  which  may  be  de- 
scribed under  these  terms  of  simple,  analyzable,  etc.,  is 
easily  organized  into  a  habit.  It  calls  for  no  great 
shifts  in  attention,  no  sudden  readjustments.  There  is 
nothing  mysterious  about  it.  As  satisfying  various 
wants  it  has  a  certain  kind  of  value.  It,  however, 
evokes  no  consciousness  of  self.  Toward  the  more  vari- 
able, complex  sort  of  stimuli,  greater  attention,  con- 
stant adjustment  and  readjustment,  are  necessary. 

Objects  of  the  first  sort  are  treated  as  things,  in  the 
sense  that  they  do  not  call  out  any  respect  from  us 
or  have  any  intrinsic  value.  We  understand  them 
through  and  through,  manipulate  them,  consume  them, 
throw  them  away.  We  regard  them  as  valuable  only 
with  reference  to  our  wants.  On  the  other  hand,  ob- 
jects of  the  second  sort  take  their  place  in  a  bi-focal 
situation.  Our  attention  shifts  alternately  to  their  be- 
havior and  to  our  response,  or,  conversely,  from  our 
act  to  their  response.  This  back  and  forth  movement 
of  attention  in  the  case  of  certain  of  these  objects  is 
reinforced  by  the  fact  that  certain  stimuli  from  them 
or  from  the  organism,  find  peculiar  responses  already 
prepared  in  social  instincts ;  gesture  and  language  play 
their  part.  Such  a  bi-focal  situation  as  this,  when 
completely  developed,  involves  persons.  In  its  earlier 
stages  it  is  the  quasi-personal  attitude  which  is  found 
in  certain  savage  religious  attitudes,  in  certain  aesthetic 
attitudes,  and  in  the  emotional  attitudes  which  we  all 
have  toward  many  of  the  objects  of  daily  life. 

Economic  values  arise  in  connection  with  attitudes 
toward  things.     We  buy  things,  we  sell  them.     They 


THE  MORAL  LIFE 


377 


have  value  just  in  that  they  gratify  our  wants,  but 
they  do  not  compel  any  revision  or  change  in  wants  or 
in  the  self  which  wants.  They  represent  a  partial  in- 
terest— or  if  they  become  the  total  interest  we  regard 
them  as  now  in  the  moral  sphere.  Values  of  personal 
affection  arise  as  we  find  a  constant  rapport  in  thought, 
feeling,  purpose,  between  the  two  members  of  our  so- 
cial consciousness.  The  attitude  is  that  of  going  along 
with  another  and  thereby  extending  and  enriching  our 
experiences.  We  enter  into  his  ideas,  range  with  his 
imagination,  kindle  at  his  enthusiasms,  sympathize  with 
his  joys  or  sorrows.  We  may  disagree  with  our 
friend's  opinions,  but  we  do  not  maintain  a  critical  at- 
titude toward  him,  that  is,  toward  his  fundamental 
convictions  and  attitudes.  If  "  home  is  the  place 
where,  when  you  have  to  go  there,  they  have  to  take 
you  in,'*  as  Frost  puts  it,  a  friend  is  one  who,  when 
you  go  to  him,  has  to  accept  you. 

Moral  values  also  arise  in  a  social  or  personal  rela- 
tion— not  in  relation  to  things.  This  is  on  the  surface 
in  the  form  of  judgment:  "He  is  a  good  man,"  "  That 
is  a  good  act."  If  it  is  less  obvious  in  the  practical 
judgment,  "  This  is  the  better  course  of  action,"  i.e., 
the  course  which  leads  to  the  greater  good,  or  to  the 
good,  this  is  because  we  fail  to  discern  that  the  good 
in  these  cases  is  a  something  with  which  I  can  identify 
myself,  not  a  something  which  I  merely  possess  and 
keep  separate  from  my  personality.  It  is  something 
I  shall  be  rather  than  have.  Or  if  I  speak  of  a  share 
or  participation  it  is  a  sharing  in  the  sense  of  enter- 
ing into  a  kindred  life.    It  is  an  ideal,  and  an  ideal  for 


378 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


a  conscious  personal  being  can  hardly  be  other  than 
conscious.  It  may  be  objected  that  however  personal 
the  ideal  it  is  not  on  this  account  necessarily  social. 
It  embodies  what  I  would  be,  but  does  not  necessarily 
imply  response  to  any  other  personality.  This,  how- 
ever, would  be  to  overlook  the  analyses  which  recent 
psychology  has  made  of  the  personal.  The  ideal  does 
not  develop  in  a  vacuum.  It  implies  for  one  thing  in- 
dividuality which  is  conceivable  only  as  other  indi- 
viduals are  distinguished.  It  implies  the  definition  of 
purposes,  and  such  definition  is  scarcely  if  ever  at- 
tempted except  as  a  possible  world  of  purposes  is 
envisaged. 

^Esthetic  valuation  is  in  certain  respects  intermedi- 
ate between  the  valuation  of  things  on  the  one  hand 
and  the  moral  evaluation  of  acts  of  persons  or  con- 
scious states  on  the  other.  ^Esthetic  objects  are  in 
many  cases  seemingly  things  and  yet  even  as  things 
they  are  quasi-personal;  they  are  viewed  with  a  cer- 
tain sympathy  quite  different  from  that  which  we  feel 
for  a  purely  economic  object.  If  it  is  a  work  of  art 
the  artist  has  embodied  his  thought  and  feeling  and 
the  observer  finds  it  there.  The  experience  is  that  of 
Einfilhlung.  Yet  we  do  not  expect  the  kind  of  response 
which  we  look  for  in  friendship,  nor  do  we  take  the  ob- 
ject as  merely  a  factor  for  the  guidance  or  control  of 
our  own  action  as  in  the  practical  judgment  of 
morality.  The  aesthetic  becomes  the  object  of  con- 
templation, not  of  response ;  of  embodied  meaning,  not 
of  individuality.  It  is  so  far  personal  that  no  one  of 
aesthetic  sensibility  likes  to  see  a  thing  of  beauty  de- 


THE  MORAL  LIFE 


379 


stroyed  or  mistreated.  The  situation  in  which  we  rec- 
ognize in  an  object  meaning  and  embodied  feeling,  or 
at  least  find  sources  of  stimulation  which  appeal  to  our 
emotions,  develops  an  aesthetic  enhancement  of  con- 
scious experience.  The  aesthetic  value  predicate  is  the 
outcome  of  this  peculiar  enhancement. 

It  seems  that  the  social  nature  of  the  judgment  plays 
a  part  also  in  the  varying  objectivity  of  values.  It  is 
undoubtedly  true  that  some  values  are  treated  as  be- 
longing to  objects.  If  we  cannot  explain  this  fully  we 
may  get  some  light  upon  the  situation  by  noticing  the 
degree  to  which  this  is  true  in  the  cases  of  the  kinds 
of  values  already  described. 

Economic  values  are  dubiously  objective.  We  use 
both  forms  of  expression.  We  say  on  the  one  hand, 
"  I  want  wheat,"  "  There  is  a  demand  for  wheat,"  or, 
on  the  other,  "  Wheat  is  worth  one  dollar  a  bushel." 
Conversely,  "  There  is  no  demand  for  the  old-fashioned 
high-framed  bicycle  "  or  "  It  is  worthless."  The  Mid- 
dle Ages  regarded  economic  value  as  completely  objec- 
tive. A  thing  had  a  real  value.  The  retailer  could  not 
add  to  it.  The  mediaeval  economist  believed  in  the  ex- 
ternality 9f  relations ;  he  prosecuted  for  the  offenses  of 
forestalling  and  regrating  the  man  who  would  make  a 
profit  by  merely  changing  things  in  place.  He  con- 
demned usury.  We  have  definitely  abandoned  this 
theory.  We  recognize  that  it  is  the  want  which  makes 
the  value.  To  make  exchange  possible  and  socialize 
to  some  degree  the  scale  of  prices  we  depend  upon  a 
public  market  or  a  stock  exchange. 

In  values  of  personal  affectiop  we  may  begin  with  a 


380 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


purely  individual  attitude,  "I  love  or  esteem  my 
friend."  If  I  put  it  more  objectively  I  may  say,  "  He 
is  an  honored  and  valued  friend."  Perhaps  still  more 
objectively,  we— especially  if  we  are  feminine — may 
say  "  Is  not  X  dear  ?  "  We  may  then  go  on  to  seek  a  so- 
cial standard.  We  perhaps  look  for  reinforcement  in 
a  small  group  of  like-minded.  We  are  a  little  per- 
plexed and,  it  may  be,  aggrieved  if  other  members  of 
the  circle  do  not  love  the  one  whom  we  love.  In  such 
a  group  judgment  of  a  common  friend  there  is  doubt- 
less greater  objectivity  than  in  the  economic  judgment. 
The  value  of  a  friend  does  not  depend  upon  his  adjust- 
ment to  our  wants.  As  Aristotle  pointed  out,  true 
friendship  is  for  its  own  sake.  Its  value  is  "  disinter- 
ested." If  a  man  does  not  care  for  an  economic  good 
it  does  not  reflect  upon  him.  He  may  be  careless  of 
futures,  neglectful  of  corn,  indifferent  to  steel.  It  les- 
sens the  demand,  lowers  the  values  of  these  goods,  an 
infinitesimal,  but  does  not  write  him  down  an  inferior 
person.  To  fail  to  prize  a  possible  friend  is  a  reflec- 
tion upon  us.  However  the  fact  that  in  the  very  na- 
ture of  the  case  one  can  scarcely  be  a  personal  friend 
to  a  large,  not  to  say  a  universal  group,  operates  to 
limit  the  objectivity. 

In  the  aesthetic  and  moral  attitudes  we  incorporate 
value  in  the  object  decisively.  We  do  not  like  to  think 
that  beauty  can  be  changed  with  shifting  fashions  or  to 
affirm  that  the  firmament  was  ever  anything  but  sub- 
lime. It  seems  to  belong  to  the  very  essence  of  right 
that  it  is  something  to  which  the  self  can  commit  itself 
in  absolute  loyalty  and  finality.     And,  as  for  good,  we 


THE  MORAL  LIFE 


881 


may  say  with  Moore  in  judgments  of  intrinsic  value, 
at  least,  "  we  judge  concerning  a  particular  state  of 
things  that  it  would  be  worth  while — would  be  a  good 
thing — that  that  state  of  things  should  exist,  even  if 
nothing  else  were  to  exist  besides." 

With  regard  to  this  problem  of  objectivity  it  is  sig- 
nificant in  the  first  place  that  the  kind  of  situation  out 
of  which  this  object  value  is  affirmed  in  aesthetic  and 
moral  judgments  is  a  social  situation.  It  contrasts  in 
this  respect  with  the  economic  situation.  The  economic 
is  indeed  social  in  so  far  as  it  sets  exchange  values,  but 
the  object  valued  is  not  a  social  object.  The  aesthetic 
and  moral  object  is  such  an  object.  Not  only  is  there 
no  contradiction  in  giving  to  the  symbolic  form  or  the 
moral  act  intrinsic  value :  there  is  entire  plausibility  in 
doing  so.  For  in  so  far  as  the  situation  is  really  per- 
sonal, either  member  is  fundamentally  equal  to  the 
other  and  may  be  treated  as  embodying  all  the  value 
of  the  situation.  The  value  which  rises  to  conscious- 
ness in  the  situation  is  made  more  complete  by  eliminat- 
ing from  consideration  the  originating  factors,  the 
plural  agents  of  admiration  or  approval,  and  incor- 
porating the  whole  product  abstractly  in  the  object. 
In  thus  calling  attention  to  the  social  or  personal  char- 
acter of  the  aesthetic  or  moral  object  it  is  not  intended 
to  minimize  that  factor  in  the  judgment  which  we 
properly  speak  of  as  the  universalizing  activity  of 
thought,  much  less  to  overlook  the  importance  of  the 
judgmental  process  itself.  The  intention  is  to  point 
out  some  of  the  reasons  why  in  one  case  the  thinking 
process  does  universalize  while  in  the  other  it  does  not. 


382 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


why  in  one  case  the  judgment  is  completely  objective 
while  in  the  other  it  is  not.  In  both  aesthetic  and  moral 
judgments  social  art,  social  action,  social  judgments, 
through  collective  decisions  prepare  the  way  for  the 
general  non-personal,  objective  form.  It  is  probable 
that  man  would  not  say,  "  This  is  right,"  using  the 
word  as  an  adjective,  if  he  had  not  first  said,  as  mem- 
ber of  a  judicially  acting  group,  "  This  is  right,"  using 
the  word  as  a  noun.  And  finally  whatever  we  may 
claim  as  to  the  "  cognitive  "  nature  of  the  aesthetic  and 
moral  judgment,  the  only  test  for  the  beauty  of  an  ob- 
ject is  that  persons  of  taste  discover  it.  The  only  test 
for  the  rightness  of  an  act  is  that  persons  of  good 
character  approve  it.  The  only  test  for  goodness  is 
that  good  persons  on  reflection  approve  and  choose  it 
— ^just  as  the  test  for  good  persons  is  that  they  choose 
and  do  the  good. 

(3)  Right  is  not  merely  a  means  to  good  but  has 
a  place  of  its  own  in  the  moral  consciousness.  Many 
of  our  moral  choices  or  judgments  do  not  take  the 
form  of  choice  between  right  and  wrong,  or  between 
duty  and  its  opposite;  they  appear  to  be  choices  be- 
tween goods.  That  is,  we  do  not  always  consider  our 
value  as  crystallized  into  a  present  standard  or  feel  a 
tension  between  a  resisting  and  an  authoritative  self. 
But  when  they  do  emerge  they  signify  a  distinct  fac- 
tor. What  Moore  says  of  good  may  be  said  also  of 
right.  Right  means  just  "  right,"  nothing  else. 
That  is,  we  mean  that  acts  so  characterized  correspond 
exactly  to  a  self  in  a  peculiar  attitude,  viz.,  one  of  ade- 
quate standardizing  and  adjustment,  of  equilibrium,  in 


THE  MORAL  LIFE 


383 


View  of  all  relations.  The  concept  signifies  that  in  find- 
ing our  way  into  a  moral  world  into  which  we  are  born 
in  the  process  of  valuing  and  judging,  we  take  along 
the  imagery  of  social  judgment  in  which  through  lan- 
guage and  behavior  the  individual  is  constantly  adjust- 
ing himself,  not  only  to  the  social  institutions  and 
group  organization  but  far  more  subtly  and  uncon- 
sciously to  the  social  consciousness  and  attitudes. 

This  conception  of  an  order  to  which  the  act  must 
refer  has  usually  been  regarded  as  peculiarly  a  "  ra- 
tional "  factor.  It  is,  however,  rather  an  order  of 
social  elements,  of  a  nature  of  persons,  than  of  a 
"  nature  of  things."  In  savage  life  the  position  of 
father,  wife,  child,  guest,  or  other  members  of  the  house- 
hold, is  one  of  the  most  prominent  facts  of  the  situa- 
tion. The  relationship  of  various  totem  groups  and  inter- 
marrying groups  is  the  very  focus  of  moral  conscious- 
ness. Even  in  the  case  of  such  a  cosmic  conception  of 
order  as  Dike  and  Themis,  Rita  and  Tao,  the  "  Way  " 
is  not  impersonal  cosmos.  It  is  at  least  quasi-personal. 
And  if  we  say  such  primitive  myth  has  no  bearing  on 
what  the  "  nature  "  of  right  or  the  "  true  "  meaning 
of  right  is,  it  is  pertinent  to  repeat  that  concepts  with- 
out percepts  are  empty;  that  the  term  means  nothing 
except  the  conceptual  interpretation  of  a  unique  syn- 
thetic process  in  which  an  act  placed  in  relation  to  a 
standard  is  thereby  given  new  meaning.  So  long  as 
custom  or  law  forms  the  only  or  the  dominant  factor 
in  the  process,  we  have  little  development  of  the  ideal 
concept  right  as  distinct  from  a  factual  standard. 
But  when  reason  and  intelligence  enter,  particularly 


584 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


when  that  creative  activity  of  intelligence  enters  which 
attempts  a  new  construction  of  ends,  a  new  ordering 
of  possible  experience,  then  the  standardizing  process 
is  set  free ;  a  new  self  with  new  possibilities  of  relation 
seeks  expression.  The  concept  "  right  '*  reflects  the 
standardizing,  valuing  process  of  a  synthetic  order  and 
a  synthetic  self.  Duty  bom  similarly  in  the  world  of 
social  relations  and  reflecting  especially  the  tension  be- 
tween the  individual  and  the  larger  whole  is  likewise 
given  full  moral  significance  when  it  becomes  a  tension 
within  the  synthetic  self.  And  as  thus  reflecting  the 
immediate  attitudes  of  the  self  to  an  ideal  social  order 
both  right  and  duty  are  not  to  be  treated  merely  as 
means  to  any  value  which  does  not  include  as  integrant 
factors  just  what  these  signify. 

This  view  is  contrary  to  that  of  Moore,  for  whom 
"  right  does  and  can  mean  nothing  but  *  cause  of  a 
good  result,'  and  is  thus  identical  with  useful."* 
The  right  act  is  that  which  has  the  best  consequences.f 
Similarly  duty  is  that  action  which  will  cause  more 
good  to  exist  in  the  Universe  than  any  possible  alterna- 
tive. It  is  evident  that  this  makes  it  impossible  for 
any  finite  mind  to  assert  confidently  that  any  act  is 
right  or  a  duty.  "  Accordingly  it  follows  that  we  never 
have  any  reason  to  suppose  that  an  action  is  our  duty: 
we  can  never  be  sure  that  any  action  will  produce  the 
greatest  value  possible.^ 

Whatever  the  convenience  of  such  a  definition  of  right 

•  G.  E.  Moore,  Principia  Ethica,  p.  147. 

f  Ethic*,  ch.  V. 

:|:  G.  E.  Moore,  Principia  Ethica,  p.  149. 


THE  MORAL  LIFE 


385 


and  duty  for  a  simplifled  ethics  it  can  hardly  be  claimed 
to  accord  with  the  moral  consciousness,  for  men  have 
notoriously  supposed  certain  acts  to  be  duty.  To  say 
that  a  parent  has  no  reason  to  suppose  that  it  is  his 
duty  to  care  for  his  child  is  more  than  paradox.  And 
a  still  greater  contradiction  to  the  morality  of  common 
sense  inheres  in  the  doctrine  that  the  right  act  is  that 
which  has  the  best  consequences.  Considering  all  the 
good  to  literature  and  free  inquiry  which  has  resulted 
from  the  condemnation  of  Socrates  it  is  highly  probable 
— or  at  least  it  is  arguable — that  the  condemnation  had 
better  results  than  an  acquittal  would  have  yielded.  But 
it  would  be  contrary  to  our  ordinary  use  of  language 
to  maintain  that  this  made  the  act  right.  Or  to  take 
a  more  recent  case:  the  present  war  may  conceivably 
lead  to  a  more  permanent  peace.  The  "  severities," 
practised  by  one  party,  may  stir  the  other  to  greater 
indignation  and  lead  ultimately  to  triumph  of  the  latter. 
Will  the  acts  in  question  be  termed  right  by  the  second 
party  if  they  actually  have  this  eff'ect?  On  this  hy- 
pothesis the  more  outrageous  an  act  and  the  greater 
the  reaction  against  it,  the  better  the  consequences  are 
likely  to  be  and  hence  the  more  reason  to  call  the  act 
right  and  a  duty.  The  paradox  results  from  omitting 
from  right  the  elements  of  the  immediate  situation  and 
considering  only  consequences.  The  very  meaning  of 
the  concept  right,  implies  focussing  attention  upon  the 
present  rather  than  upon  the  future.  It  suggests  a 
cross-section  of  life  in  its  relations.  If  the  time  process 
were  to  be  arrested  immediately  after  our  act  I  think 
we  might  still  speak  of  it  as  right  or  wrong.    In  trying 


386 


CREATIVE  INTELLIGENCE 


to  judge  a  proposed  act  we  doubtless  try  to  discover 
what  it  will  mean,  that  is,  we  look  at  consequences.  But 
these  consequences  are  looked  upon  as  giving  us  the 
meaning  of  the  present  act  and  we  do  not  on  this  ac- 
count subordinate  the  present  act  to  these  consequences. 
Especially  we  do  not  mean  to  eliminate  the  significance 
of  this  very  process  of  judgment.  It  is  significant  that 
in  considering  what  are  the  intrinsic  goods  Moore 
enumerates  personal  affection  and  the  appreciation  of 
beauty,  and  with  less  positiveness,  true  belief,  but  does 
not  include  any  mention  of  the  valuing  or  choosing  or 
creative  consciousness. 

(4)  If  we  regard  right  as  the  concept  which  reflects 
the  judgment  of  standardizing  our  acts  by  some  ideal 
order,  questions  arise  as  to  the  objectivity  of  this  order 
and  the  fixed  or  moving  character  of  the  implied  stand- 
ard. Rashdall  lays  great  stress  upon  the  importance 
of  objectivity:  "Assuredly  there  is  no  scientific  prob- 
lem upon  which  so  much  depends  as  upon  the  answer 
we  give  to  the  question  whether  the  distinction  which 
we  are  accustomed  to  draw  between  right  and  wrong 
belongs  to  the  region  of  objective  truth  like  the  laws 
of  mathematics  and  of  physical  science,  or  whether  it 
is  based  upon  an  actual  emotional  constitution  of  in- 
dividual human  beings."  ♦  The  appraisement  of  the 
various  desires  and  impulses  by  myself  and  other  men 
is  "  a  piece  of  insight  into  the  true  nature  of  things."  f 
While  these  statements  are  primarily  intended  to  oppose 
the  moral  sense  view  of  the  judgment,  they  also  bear 

*  Rashdall,  It  Conscience  an  Emotion?  pp.  199  f. 
ilbid.,  177. 


THE  MORAL  LIFE 


887 


upon  the  question  whether  right  is  something  fixed. 
The  phrase  "  insight  into  the  true  nature  of  things  " 
suggests  at  once  the  view  that  the  nature  of  things 
is  quite  independent  of  any  attitude  of  human  beings 
toward  it.  It  is  something  which  the  seeker  for  moral 
truth  may  discover  but  nothing  which  he  can  in 
any  way  modify.  It  is  urged  that  if  we  are  to  have  any 
science  of  ethics  at  all  what  was  once  right  must  be 
conceived  as  always  right  in  the  same  circumstances.* 

I  hold  no  brief  for  the  position — if  any  one  holds  the 
position — that  in  saying  "  this  is  right "  I  am  making 
an  assertion  about  my  own  feelings  or  those  of  any  one 
else.  As  already  stated  the  function  of  the  judging 
process  is  to  determine  objects,  with  reference  to  which 
we  say  "  is  "  or  "  is  not."  The  emotional  theory  of 
the  moral  consciousness  does  not  give  adequate  recog- 
nition to  this.  But  just  as  little  as  the  process  of  the 
moral  consciousness  is  satisfied  by  an  emotional  theory 
of  the  judgment  does  it  sanction  any  conception  of 
objectivity  which  requires  that  values  are  here  or  there 
once  for  all ;  that  they  are  fixed  entities  or  "  a  nature 
of  things  "  upon  which  the  moral  consciousness  may 
look  for  its  information  but  upon  which  it  exercises  no 
influence.  The  process  of  attempting  to  give — or  dis- 
cover— moral  values  is  a  process  of  mutual  determina- 
tion of  object  and  agent.  We  have  to  do  in  morals  not 
with  a  nature  of  things  but  with  natures  of  persons. 
The  very  characteristic  of  a  person  as  we  have  under- 
stood it  is  that  he  is  synthetic,  is  actually  creating 
something  new  by  organizing  experiences  and  purposes, 

•  G.  E.  Moore,  Ethics,  Ch.  III. 


388 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


by  judging  and  choosing.     Objectivity  does  not  neces- 
sarily imply  changelessness. 

Whether  right  is  a  term  of  fixed  and  changeless  char- 
acter depends  upon  whether  the  agents  are  fixed  units, 
either  in  fact  or  in  ideal.  If,  as  we  maintain,  right  is 
the  correlate  of  a  self  confronting  a  world  of  other 
persons  conceived  as  all  related  in  an  order,  the  vital 
question  is  whether  this  order  is  a  fixed  or  a  moving 
order.  "  Straight "  is  a  term  of  fixed  content  just  be- 
cause we  conceive  space  in  timeless  terms ;  it  is  by  its  very 
meaning  a  cross-section  of  a  static  order.  But  a  world 
of  living  intelligent  agents  in  social  relations  is  in  its 
very  presuppositions  a  world  of  activity,  of  mutual 
understanding  and  adjustment.  Rationalistic  theory, 
led  astray  by  geometrical  conceptions,  conceived  that 
a  universal  criterion  must  be  like  a  straight  line,  a  fixed 
and  timeless — or  eternal — entity.  But  in  such  an  order 
of  fixed  units  there  could  be  no  selection,  no  adjustment 
to  other  changing  agents,  no  adventure  upon  the  new 
untested  possibility  which  marks  the  advance  of  every 
great  moral  idea,  in  a  word,  no  morality  of  the  positive 
and  constructive  sort.  And  if  it  be  objected  that  the 
predicate  of  a  judgment  must  be  timeless  whatever 
the  subject,  that  the  word  "  is  "  as  Plato  insists  cannot 
be  used  if  all  flows,  we  reply  that  if  right=the  correlate 
of  a  moving  order,  of  living  social  intelligent  beings, 
it  is  quite  possible  to  affirm  "  This  is  according  to 
that  law."  If  our  logic  provides  no  form  of  judgment 
for  the  analysis  of  such  a  situation  it  is  inadequate  for 
the  facts  which  it  would  interpret.  But  in  truth  man- 
kind's moral  judgments  have  never  committed  themselves 


THE  MORAL  LIFE 


8S9 


to  any  such  implication.  We  recognize  the  futility  of 
attempting  to  answer  simply  any  such  questions  as 
whether  the  Israelites  did  right  to  conquer  Canaan  or 
Hamlet  to  avenge  his  father. 

(5)  The  category  of  right  has  usually  been  closely 
connected,  if  not  identified,  with  reason  or  "  cognitive  " 
activity  as  contrasted  with  emotion.  Professor  Dewey 
OP  the  contrary  has  pointed  out  clearly  *  the  impossi- 
bility of  separating  emotion  and  thought.  "  To  put  our- 
selves in  the  place  of  another  ...  is  the  surest  way  to 
attain  universality  and  objectivity  of  moral  knowl- 
edge." **  The  only  truly  general,  the  reasonable  as  dis- 
tinct from  the  merely  shrewd  or  clever  thought,  is  the 
generous  thought."  But  in  the  case  of  certain  judg- 
ments such  as  those  approving  fairness  and  the  general 
good  Sidgwick  finds  a  rational  intuition.  "  The  prin- 
ciple of  impartiality  is  obtained  by  considering  the 
similarity  of  the  individuals  that  make  up  a  Logical 
Whole  or  Genus."  f  Rashdall  challenges  any  but  a 
rationalistic  ethics  to  explain  fairness  as  contrasted  with 
partiality  of  aff*ection. 

There  is  without  question  a  properly  rational  or  in- 
tellectual element  in  the  judgment  of  impartiality, 
namely,  analysis  of  the  situation  and  comparison  of  the 
units.  But  what  we  shall  set  up  as  our  units — whether 
we  shall  treat  the  gentile  or  the  barbarian  or  negro  as 
a  person,  as  end  and  not  merely  means,  or  not,  depends 
on  something  quite  other  than  reason.  And  this  other 
factor  is  not  covered  by  the  term  "  practical  reason." 

•  Dewey  and  Tufts,  Ethics,  pp.  334  f. 
t  Methodt  of  Ethics,  p.  380. 


390 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


In  fact  no  ethical  principle  shows  better  the  subtle 
blending  of  the  emotional  and  social  factors  with  the 
rational.  For  the  student  of  the  history  of  justice  is 
aware  that  only  an  extraordinarily  ingenious  exegesis 
could  regard  justice  as  having  ever  been  governed  by 
a  mathematical  logic.  The  logic  of  justice  has  been 
the  logic  of  a  we-group  gradually  expanding  its  area. 
Or  it  has  been  the  logic  of  a  Magna  Charta — a  document 
of  special  privileges  wrested  from  a  superior  by  a  strong 
group,  and  gradually  widening  its  benefits  with  the 
admission  of  others  into  the  favored  class.  Or  it  has 
been  the  logic  of  class,  in  which  those  of  the  same  level 
are  treated  alike  but  those  of  different  levels  of  birth 
or  wealth  are  treated  proportionately.  Yet  it  would 
seem  far-fetched  to  maintain  that  the  countrymen  of 
Euclid  and  Aristotle  were  deficient  in  the  ability  to 
perform  so  simple  a  reasoning  process  as  the  judgment 
one  equals  one,  or  that  men  who  developed  the  Roman 
Law,  or  built  the  cathedrals  of  the  Middle  Ages,  were 
similarly  lacking  in  elementary  analysis.  Inequality 
rather  than  equality  has  been  the  rule  in  the  world's 
justice.  It  has  not  only  been  the  practice  but  the  ap- 
proved principle.  It  still  is  in  regard  to  great  areas 
of  life.  In  the  United  States  there  is  no  general  dis- 
approval of  the  great  inequalities  in  opportunity  for 
children,  to  say  nothing  of  inequalities  in  distribution 
of  wealth.  In  England  higher  education  is  for  the 
classes  rather  than  for  the  masses.  In  Prussia  the  in- 
equality in  voting  strength  of  different  groups  and  the 
practical  immunity  of  the  military  class  from  the  con- 
straints of  civil  law  seem  to  an  American  unfair.    The 


THE  MORAL  LIFE 


891 


western  states  of  the  Union  think  it  unfair  to  restrict 
the  suffrage  to  males  and  give  women  no  voice  in  the 
determination  of  matters  of  such  vital  interest  to  them 
as  the  law  of  divorce,  the  guardianship  of  children,  the 
regulation  of  women's  labor,  the  sale  of  alcoholic  liquors, 
the  protection  of  milk  and  food  supply.  Are  all  these 
differences  of  practice  and  conviction  due  to  the  fact 
that  some  people  use  reason  while  others  do  not.'*  Of 
course  in  every  case  excellent  reasons  can  be  given  for 
the  inequality.  The  gentile  should  not  be  treated  as  a 
Jew  because  he  is  not  a  Jew.  The  slave  should  not 
be  treated  as  a  free  citizen  because  he  is  not  a  free 
citizen.  The  churl  should  not  have  the  same  wergeld 
as  the  thane  because  he  is  lowborn.  The  more  able 
should  possess  more  goods.  The  woman  should  not  vote 
because  she  is  not  a  man.  The  reasoning  is  clear  and 
unimpeachable  if  you  accept  the  premises,  but  what 
gives  the  premises?  In  every  case  cited  the  premise 
is  determined  largely  if  not  exclusively  by  social  or 
emotional  factors.  If  reason  can  then  prescribe  equally 
well  that  the  slave  should  be  given  rights  because  he  is 
a  man  of  similar  traits  or  denied  rights  because  he  has 
different  traits  from  his  master,  if  the  Jew  may  either 
be  given  his  place  of  equality  because  he  hath  eyes, 
hands,  organs,  dimensions,  senses,  affections,  passions, 
or  denied  equality  because  he  differs  in  descent,  if  a 
woman  is  equal  as  regards  taxpaying  but  unequal  as 
regards  voting,  it  is  at  least  evident  that  reason  is  no 
unambiguous  source  of  morality.  The  devil  can  quote 
Scripture  and  it  is  a  very  poor  reasoner  who  cannot 
find  a  reason  for  anything  that  he  wishes  to  do.     A 


S92 


CREATIVE   INTELLIGENCE 


partiality  that  is  more  or  less  consistently  partial  to 
certain  sets  or  classes  is  perhaps  as  near  impartiality 
as  man  has  yet  come,  whether  by  a  rational  faculty  or 
any  other. 

Is  it,  then,  the  intent  of  this  argument  merely  to 
reiterate  that  reason  is  and  ought  to  be  the  slave  of 
the  passions?     On  the  contrary,  the  intent  is  to  sub- 
stitute for  such  blanket  words  as  reason  and  passions 
a  more  adequate  analysis.     And  what  difference  will 
this  make?     As  regards  the  particular  point  in  con- 
troversy  it  will  make  this   difference:  the   rationalist 
having  smuggled  in  under  the  cover  of  reason  the  whole 
moral  consciousness  then  proceeds  to  assume  that  be- 
cause two  and  two  are  always  four,  or  the  relations  of 
a  straight  line  are  timeless,  therefore  ethics  is  simi- 
larly a  matter  of  fixed  standards  and  timeless  goods. 
A  legal  friend  told  me  that  he  once  spent  a  year  trying 
to  decide  whether  a  corporation  was  or  was  not  a  per- 
son and  then  concluded  that  the  question  was  imma- 
terial.    But  when  the  supreme  court  decided  that  a 
corporation  was  a  person  in  the  meaning  of  the  Four- 
teenth Amendment  it  thereby  made  the   corporation 
heir  to  the  rights  established  primarily  for  the  negro. 
Can    the    moral    consciousness    by    taking    the    name 
"  reason "  become  heir   to   all   the   privileges   of  the 
absolute  idea  and  to  the  timelessness   of   space  and 
number? 

Suppose  I  am  to  divide  an  apple  between  my  two 
children — two  children,  two  pieces — this  is  an  analysis 
of  the  situation  which  is  obvious  and  may  well  be  called 
the  analytic  activity  of  reason.     But  shall  I  give  to 


THE  MORAL  LIFE 


$9S 


each  an  equal  share  on  the  ground  that  both  are  equally 
my  children  or  shall  I  reason  that  as  John  is  older  or 
larger  or  hungrier  or  mentally  keener  or  more  generous 
or  is  a  male,  he  shall  have  a  larger  piece  than  Jane? 
To  settle  this  it  may  be  said  that  we  ought  to  see 
whether  there  is  any  connection  between  the  size  of  the 
piece  and  the  particular  quality  of  John  which  is  con- 
sidered, or  that  by  a  somewhat  different  use  of  reason 
we  should  look  at  the  whole  situation  and  see  how  we 
shall  best  promote  family  harmony  and  mutual  af- 
fection. To  settle  the  first  of  these  problems,  that  of 
the  connection  beween  the  size  of  the  piece  and  the 
size  of  the  hunger  or  the  sex  of  the  child,  is  seemingly 
again  a  question  of  analysis,  of  finding  identical  units, 
but  a  moment^s  thought  shows  that  the  case  is  not  so 
simple;  that  the  larger  child  should  have  the  larger 
piece  is  by  no  means  self-evident.  This  is  in  principle 
doubtless  the  logic,  to  him  that  hath  shall  be  given. 
It  is  the  logic  of  the  survival  of  the  strong,  but  over 
against  that  the  moral  consciousness  has  always  set  an- 
other logic  which  says  that  the  smaller  child  should 
have  the  larger  piece  if  thereby  intelligent  sympathy  can 
contribute  toward  evening  up  the  lot  of  the  smaller. 
Now  it  is  precisely  this  attitude  of  the  moral  conscious- 
ness which  is  not  suggested  by  the  term  reason,  for  it 
is  quite  different  from  the  analytic  and  identifying  ac- 
tivity. This  analytical  and  identifying  activity  may 
very  well  rule  out  of  court  the  hypothesis  that  I  should 
give  John  the  larger  piece  because  he  has  already  eaten 
too  much  or  because  he  has  just  found  a  penny  or  be- 
cause he  has  red  hair;  it  has  undoubtedly  helped  in 


dd4 


CREATIVE   INTELLIGENCE 


abolishing  such  practices  as  that  of  testing  innocence 
by  the  ordeal.  But  before  the  crucial  question  of  justice 
which  divides  modern  society,  namely,  whether  we  shall 
lay  emphasis  upon  adjustment  of  rewards  to  previous 
abilities,  habits,  possessions,  character,  or  shall  lay 
stress  upon  needs,  and  the  possibility  of  bringing  about 
a  greater  measure  of  equality,  the  doctrine  which  would 
find  its  standard  in  an  a  priori  reason  is  helpless. 

If  we  look  at  the  second  test  suggested,  namely,  that 
of  considering  the  situation  as  a  whole  with  a  view  to 
the  harmony  of  the  children  and  the  mutual  affection 
within  the  family,  there  can  be  even  less  question  that 
this  is  no  mere  logical  problem  of  the  individuals  in  a 
logical  genus.  It  is  the  social  problem  of  individuals 
who  have  feelings  and  emotions  as  well  as  thought  and 
will.  The  problem  of  distributing  the  apple  fairly  is 
then  a  complex  in  which  at  least  the  following  processes 
enter.  (1)  Analysis  of  the  situation  to  show  all  the 
relevant  factors  with  the  full  bearing  of  each;  (2)  put- 
ting yourself  in  the  place  of  each  one  to  be  considered 
and  experiencing  to  the  full  the  claims,  the  difficulties 
and  the  purposes  of  each  person  involved;  (3)  con- 
sidering all  of  these  as  members  of  the  situation  so 
that  no  individual  is  given  rights  or  allowed  claims 
except  in  so  far  as  he  represents  a  point  of  view  which 
is  comprehensive  and  sympathetic.  This  I  take  it  is 
the  force  of  President  Wilson's  utterance  which  has 
commanded  such  wide  acceptance :  "  America  asks  noth- 
ing for  herself  except  what  she  has  a  right  to  ask  in 
the  name  of  humanity."  Kant  aimed  to  express  a  high 
and  democratic  ideal  of  justice  in  his  doctrine  that  we 


THE  MORAL  LIFE 


S95 


should  treat  every  rational  being  as  end.  The  defect 
in  his  statement  is  that  the  rational  process  as  such  has 
never  treated  and  so  far  as  can  be  foreseen  never  will 
treat  human  beings  as  ends.  To  treat  a  human  being 
as  an  end  it  is  necessary  to  put  oneself  into  his  place 
in  his  whole  nature  and  not  simply  in  his  universalizing, 
and  legislative  aspects.  Kant's  principle  is  profound 
and  noble,  but  his  label  for  it  is  misleading  and  leaves 
a  door  open  for  appalling  disregard  of  other  people's 
feelings,  sympathies,  and  moral  sentiments,  as  Professor 
Dewey  has  indicated  in  his  recent  lectures  on  "  German 
Philosophy  and  Politics." 

The  term  "  reasonable,"  which  is  frequently  used  in 
law  and  common  life  as  a  criterion  of  right,  seems  to 
imply  that  reason  is  a  standard.  As  already  stated, 
common  life  understands  by  the  reasonable  man  one  who 
not  only  uses  his  own  thinking  powers  but  is  willing  to 
listen  to  reason  as  presented  by  some  one  else.  He 
makes  allowance  for  frailities  in  human  nature.  To  be 
reasonable  means,  very  nearly,  taking  into  account  all 
factors  of  the  case  not  only  as  I  see  them  but  as  men 
of  varying  capacities  and  interests  regard  them.  The 
type  of  the  "  unreasonable  "  employer  is  the  man  who 
refuses  to  talk  over  things  with  the  laborers;  to  put 
himself  in  their  place;  or  to  look  at  matters  from  the 
point  of  view  of  society  as  a  whole. 

Just  as  little  does  the  term  reasonable  as  used  in 
law  permit  a  purely  intellectualistic  view  of  the  process 
or  an  a  priori  standard.  The  question  as  to  what  is 
reasonable  care  or  a  reasonable  price  is  often  declared 
to  be  a  matter  not  for  the  court  but  for  the  jury  to 


S96 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


decide,  i.e.,  it  is  not  to  be  deduced  from  any  settled 
principle  but  is  a  question  of  what  the  average  thought- 
ful man,  who  considers  other  people  as  well  as  himself, 
would  do  under  the  circumstances.  A  glance  at  some 
of  the  judicial  definitions  of  such  phrases  as  "  reason- 
able care,"  "  reasonable  doubt,"  "  reasonable  law,"  as 
brought  together  in  Words  and  Phrases  Judicially  De- 
finedj  illustrates  this  view.  We  get  a  picture  not  of 
any  definite  standard  but  of  such  a  process  as  we  have 
described  in  our  analysis,  namely,  a  process  into  which 
the  existing  social  tradition,  the  mutual  adjustments 
of  a  changing  society  and  the  intelligent  consideration 
of  all  facts,  enter.  The  courts  have  variously  defined 
the  reasonable  (1)  as  the  customary,  or  ordinary,  or 
legal,  or  (2)  as  according  with  the  existing  state  of 
knowledge  in  some  special  field,  or  (3)  as  proceeding 
on  due  consideration  of  all  the  facts,  or  (4)  as  offering 
sufficient  basis  for  action.  For  example,  (1)  reason- 
able care  means  "  according  to  the  usages,  habits,  and 
ordinary  risks  of  the  business,"  (2)  "  surgeons  should 
keep  up  with  the  latest  advances  in  medical  science,'* 
(3)  a  reasonable  price  "  is  such  a  price  as  the  jury 
would  under  all  the  circumstances  decide  to  be  reason- 
able." "  If,  after  an  impartial  comparison  and  con- 
sideration the  jury  can  say  candidly  they  are  not  satis- 
fied with  the  defendant's  guilt  they  have  a  reasonable 
doubt."  Under  (4)  falls  one  of  various  definitions  of 
**  beyond  reasonable  doubt."  "  The  evidence  must  be 
such  as  to  produce  in  the  minds  of  prudent  men  such 
certainty  that  they  would  act  without  hesitation  in 
their  own  most  important  affairs."    There  is  evidently 


THE  MORAL  LIFE 


S97 


ground  for  the  statement  of  one  judge  that  "  reason- 
able" (he  was  speaking  the  phrase  "  reasonable  care," 
but  his  words  would  seem  to  apply  to  other  cases)  "  can- 
not be  measured  by  any  fixed  or  inflexible  standard." 
Professor  Freund  characterizes  "  reasonable  "  as  "  the 
negation  of  precision."  In  the  development  of  judicial 
interpretation  as  applied  to  the  Sherman  Law  the  tend- 
ency is  to  hold  that  the  "  rule  of  reason  "  will  regard  as 
forbidden  by  the  statute  (a)  such  combinations  as  have 
historically  been  prohibited  and  (h)  such  as  seem  to 
work  some  definite  injury. 


m 


The  above  view  of  the  function  of  intelligence,  and  of 
the  synthetic  character  of  the  conscious  process  may  be 
further  defined  in  certain  aspects  by  comparison  with 
the  view  of  Professor  Fite,  who  likewise  develops  the  sig- 
nificance of  consciousness  and  particularly  of  intelli- 
gence for  our  ethical  concepts  and  social  program. 

Professor  Fite  insists  that  in  contrast  with  the  "  func- 
tional psychology "  which  would  make  consciousness 
merely  a  means  to  the  preservation  of  the  organic  in- 
dividual in  mechanical  working  order,  the  whole  value 
of  life  from  the  standpoint  of  the  conscious  agent  con- 
sists in  its  being  conscious.  Creative  moments  in  which 
there  is  complete  conscious  control  of  materials  and 
technique  represent  high  and  unique  individuality.  Ex- 
tension of  range  of  consciousness  makes  the  agent  "  a 
larger  and  more  inclusive  being,"  for  he  is  living  in  the 
future  and  past  as  well  as  in  the  present.  Conscious- 
ness means  that  a  new  and  original  force  is  inserted 


398 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


THE  MORAL  LIFE 


399 


into  the  economy  of  the  social  and  the  physical  world."  ♦ 
On  the  basis  of  the  importance  of  consciousness  Pro- 
fessor Fite  would  ground  his  justification  of  rights,  his 
conception  of  justice,  and  his  social  program.  The 
individual  derives  his  rights  simply  from  the  fact  that 
he  knows  what  he  is  doing,  hence  as  individuals  differ 
in  intelligence  they  differ  in  rights.  The  problem  of 
justice  is  that  of  according  to  each  a  degree  of  recog- 
nition proportioned  to  his  intelligence,  that  is,  treat 
others  as  ends  so  far  as  they  are  intelligent;  so  far 
as  they  are  ignorant  treat  them  as  means.f  "  The 
conscious  individual  when  dealing  with  other  conscious 
individuals  will  take  account  of  their  aims,  as  of  other 
factors  in  his  situation.  This  will  involve  'adjust- 
ment,' but  not  abandonment  of  ends,  i.e.,  self-sacrifice. 
Obligation  to  consider  these  ends  of  others  is  based 
on  '  the  same  logic  that  binds  me  to  get  out  of  the  way 
of  an  approaching  train.'  "  X 

The  point  in  which  the  conception  of  rights  and 
justice  and  the  implied  social  program  advocated  in 
this  paper  differs  as  I  view  it  from  that  of  Professor 
Fite  is  briefly  this.  I  regard  both  the  individual  and 
his  rights  as  essentially  synthetic  and  in  constant  proc- 
ess of  reconstruction.  Therefore  what  is  due  to  any 
individual  at  a  moment  is  not  measured  by  his  present 
stage  of  consciousness.  It  is  measured  rather  by  his 
possibilities  than  his  actualities.  This  does  not  mean 
that  the  actual  is  to  be  ignored,  but  it  does  mean  that 

*  IndividuaJism,  55,  61,  69. 

t  Lectures  III  and  IV,  especiaUy  175,  176,  235-39. 

:|:Pp.  Ill  flF.,  172-75,  329  ff. 


if  we  take  our  stand  upon  the  actual  we  are  committed 
to  a  program  with  little  place  for  imagination,  with  an 
emphasis  all  on  the  side  of  giving  people  what  they 
deserve  rather  than  of  making  them  capable  of  deserv- 
ing more.  Professor  Fite's  position  I  regard  as  con- 
ceiving consciousness  itself  too  largely  in  the  category 
of  the  identical  and  the  static  rather  than  in  the  more 
"  conscious "  categories  of  constant  reconstruction. 
When  by  virtue  of  consciousness  you  conceive  new  ends 
in  addition  to  your  former  particular  ideas  of  present 
good  the  problem  is,  he  says,  "  to  secure  perfect  ful- 
filment of  each  of  them."  The  "  usefulness  "  or  "  ad- 
vantage "  or  "profitableness"  of  entering  into  social 
relations  is  the  central  category  for  measuring  their 
value  and  their  obligation. 

Now  the  conception  of  securing  perfect  fulfilment 
of  all  one's  aims  by  means  of  society  rather  than  of 
putting  one's  own  aims  into  the  process  for  reciprocal 
modification  and  adjustment  with  the  aims  of  others 
and  of  the  new  social  whole  involves  a  view  of  these  ends 
as  fixed,  an  essentially  mechanical  view.  The  same  is 
the  implication  in  considering  society  from  the  point 
of  view  of  use  and  profit.  As  previously  suggested 
these  economic  terms  apply  appropriately  to  things 
rather  than  to  intrinsic  values.  To  consider  the  uses 
of  a  fellow-being  is  to  measure  him  in  terms  of  some 
other  end  than  his  own  intrinsic  personal  worth.  To 
consider  family  life  or  society  as  profitable  implies  in 
ordinary  language  that  such  life  is  a  means  for  securing 
ends  already  established  rather  than  that  it  proves  a 
good  to  the  man  who  invests  in  it  and  thereby  becomes 


111 


400 


CREATIVE   INTELLIGENCE 


himself  a  new  individual  with  a  new  standard  of  values. 
Any  object  to  be  chosen  must  of  course* have  value  to 
the  chooser.  But  it  is  one  thing  to  be  valued  because 
it  appeals  to  the  actual  chooser  as  already  constituted; 
it  is  another  thing  to  be  valued  because  it  appeals  to  a 
moving  self  which  adventures  upon  this  new  unproved 
objective.  This  second  is  the  distinction  of  taking 
an  interest  instead  of  being  interested. 

The  second  point  of  divergence  is  that  Professor  Fite 
lays  greater  stress  upon  the  intellectual  side  of  intelli- 
gence, whereas  I  should  deny  that  the  intellectual  ac- 
tivity in  itself  is  adequate  to  give  either  a  basis  for 
obligation  or  a  method  of  dealing  with  the  social  prob- 
lem. The  primary  fact,  as  Professor  Fite  well  states 
it,  is  '^  that  men  are  conscious  beings  and  therefore 
know  themselves  and  one  another."  It  involves  "  a 
mutual  recognition  of  personal  ends."  "  That  very 
knowledge  which  shows  the  individual  himself  shows  him 
also  that  he  is  living  in  a  world  with  other  persons  and 
other  things  whose  mode  of  behavior  and  whose  interests 
determine  for  him  the  conditions  through  which  his  own 
interests  are  to  be  realized." 

What  kind  of  "  knowledge  "  is  it  "  which  shows  the 
individual  himself  "  ?  Professor  Fite  has  two  quite  dif- 
ferent ways  of  referring  to  this.  He  uses  one  set  of 
terms  when  he  would  contrast  his  view  with  the  senti- 
mental, or  the  "  Oriental,"  or  justify  exploitation  by 
those  who  know  better  What  they  are  about  than  the 
exploited.  He  uses  another  set  of  terms  to  characterize 
it  when  he  wishes  to  commend  his  view  as  human,  and 
fraternal,  and  as  affording  the  only  firm  basis  for  social 


THE  MORAL  LIFE 


401 


reform.  In  the  first  case  he  speaks  of  "  mere  knowing  " ; 
of  intelligence  as  "  clear,"  and  "  far-sighted,"  of  higher 
degrees  of  consciousness  as  simply  "  more  in  one." 
"Our  test  of  intelligence  would  be  breadth  of  vision 
(in  a  coherent  view),  fineness  and  keenness  of  insight."  * 

In  the  second  case  it  is  "  generous,"  it  will  show  an 
"intelligent  sympathy";  it  seeks  "fellowship,"  and 
would  not  "elect  to  live  in  a  social  environment  in 
which  the  distinction  of  *  inferiors '  were  an  essential 
part  of  the  idea."  f  The  type  of  intelligence  is  found 
not  in  the  man  seeking  wealth  or  power,  nor  in  the  legal 
acumen  which  forecasts  all  discoverable  consequences 
and  devises  means  to  carry  out  purposes,  but  in  litera- 
ture and  art. J 

The  terms  which  cover  both  these  meanings  are  the 
words  "consider"  and  "considerate."  "Breadth  of 
consideration  "  gives  the  basis  for  rights.  The  selfish 
man  is  the  "  inconsiderate."  §  This  term  plays  the 
part  of  the  amor  tntellectualis  in  the  system  of  Spinoza, 
which  enables  him  at  once  to  discard  all  emotion  and  yet 
to  keep  it.  For  "  consideration  "  is  used  in  common 
life,  and  defined  in  the  dictionaries,  as  meaning  both 
"  examination,"  "  careful  thought,"  and  "  appreciative 
or  sympathetic  regard."  The  ambiguity  in  the  term 
may  well  have  served  to  disguise  from  the  author  him- 
self the  double  role  which  intelligence  is  made  to  play. 
The  broader  use  is  the  only  one  that  does  justice  to  the 
moral  consciousness,  but  we  cannot  include  sympathy 
and  still  maintain  that  "mere  knowing"   covers   the 


•  Pp.  78,  186,  236,  261  f.,  267,  269. 
tl24,  182,  301. 


1 263  ff.,  123. 
§  Pp.  180,  241. 


402 


CREATIVE   INTELLIGENCE 


whole.  The  insistence  at  times  upon  the  **  mere  know- 
ing" is  a  mechanical  element  which  needs  to  be  re- 
moved before  the  ethical  implications  can  be  accepted. 
Once  more,  how  does  one  know  himself  and  others? 
Is  it  the  same  process  precisely  as  knowing  a  mechanical 
object?  Thoughts  without  percepts  are  empty,  and 
what  are  the  "  percepts  "  in  the  two  cases  ?  In  the  first 
case,  that  of  knowing  things,  the  percepts  are  colors, 
sounds,  resistances ;  in  the  case  of  persons  the  percepts 
are  impulses,  feelings,  desires,  passions,  as  well  as 
images,  purposes,  and  the  reflective  process  itself.  In 
the  former  case  we  construct  objects  de-humanized; 
in  the  latter  we  keep  them  more  or  less  concrete.  But 
now,  just  as  primitive  man  did  not  so  thoroughly  de- 
personalize nature,  but  left  in  it  an  element  of  personal 
aim,  so  science  may  view  human  beings  as  objects  whose 
purposes  and  even  feelings  may  be  predicted,  and  hence 
may,  as  Professor  Fite  well  puts  it,  view  them  mechani- 
cally. What  he  fails  to  note  is  that  just  this  mechanical 
point  of  view  is  the  view  of  "  mere  knowing " — if 
"  mere  "  has  any  significance  at  all,  it  is  meant  to  shut 
out  "  sentiment."  And  this  mechanical  view  is  entirely 
equal  to  the  adjectives  of  "  clear,"  "  far-sighted,"  and 
even  "  broad  "  so  far  as  this  means  "  more  in  one." 
For  it  is  not  essential  to  a  mechanical  point  of  view 
that  we  consider  men  in  masses  or  study  them  by  statis- 
tics. I  may  calculate  the  purposes  and  actions,  yes, 
and  the  emotions  and  values  of  one,  or  of  a  thousand, 
and  be  increasingly  clear,  and  far-sighted,  and  broad, 
but  if  it  is  "  mere  "  knowing — scientific  information — 
it  is  still  "  mechanical,"  i.e.,  external.     On  the  other 


THE  MORAL  LIFE 


403 


hand,  if  it  is  to  be  a  knowledge  that  has  the  qualities 
of  humaneness,  or  "  intelligent  sympathy,"  it  must 
have  some  of  the  stuffs  of  feeling,  even  as  in  the  realm 
of  things  an  artist's  forest  will  differ  from  that  of  the 
most  "  far-sighted,"  "  clear,"  and  "  broad  "  statis- 
tician, by  being  rich  with  color  and  moving  line. 

And  this  leads  to  a  statement  of  the  way  in  which  my 
fellow-beings  will  find  place  in  "  my  "  self.  I  grant  that 
if  they  are  there  I  shall  take  some  account  of  them. 
But  they  may  be  there  in  all  sorts  of  ways.  They 
may  be  there  as  "  population  "  if  I  am  a  statistician, 
or  as  "  consumers,"  or  as  rivals,  or  as  enemies,  or 
as  fellows,  or  as  friends.  They  will  have  a  "  value  " 
in  each  case,  but  it  will  sometimes  be  a  positive  value, 
and  sometimes  a  negative  value.  Which  it  will  be,  and 
how  great  it  will  be,  depends  not  on  the  mere  fact  of 
these  objects  being  "  in  consciousness "  but  on  the 
capacity  in  which  they  are  there.  And  this  capacity 
depends  on  the  dominant  interest  and  not  on  mere 
knowing.  The  trouble  with  the  selfish  man,  says  Pro- 
fessor Fite,  is  that  he  "  fails  to  consider,"  "  he  fails 
to  take  account  of  me."  *  Well,  then,  whi/  does  he 
fail?  Why  does  he  not  take  account  of  me?  He  prob- 
ably does  "  consider  "  me  in  several  of  the  ways  that 
are  possible  and  in  the  ways  that  it  suits  him  to  con- 
sider me.  I  call  him  selfish  because  he  does  not  consider 
me  in  the  one  particular  way  in  which  I  wish  to  be 
considered.  And  what  will  get  me  into  his  considera- 
tion from  this  point  of  view?  In  some  cases  it  may  be 
that  I  can  speak :    "  Sir,  you  are  standing  on  my  toe," 

•P.  180. 


404 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


and  as  the  message  encounters  no  obstacle  in  any  fixed 
purpose  or  temperamental  bent  the  idea  has  no  diffi- 
culty in  penetrating  his  mind.  In  other  cases  it  may 
interfere  with  his  desire  to  raise  himself  as  high  as 
possible,  but  I  may  convince  him  by  the  same  logic 
as  that  of  an  "  approaching  railway  train  " — that  he 
must  regard  me.  In  still  other  cases — and  it  is  these 
that  always  test  Individualism — I  am  not  myself  aware 
of  the  injury,  or  I  am  too  faint  to  protest.  How  shall 
those  who  have  no  voice  to  speak  get  "  consideration  "? 
Only  by  "  intelligent  sympathy,"  and  by  just  those 
emotions  rooted  in  instinctive  social  tendencies  which 
an  intellectualistic  Individualism  excludes  or  distrusts. 


IV 

What  practical  conclusion,  if  any,  follows  from  this 
interpretation  of  the  moral  consciousness  and  its  cate- 
gories? Moral  progress  involves  both  the  formation  of 
better  ideals  and  the  adoption  of  such  ideals  as  actual 
standards  and  guides  of  life.  If  our  view  is  correct 
we  can  construct  better  ideals  neither  by  logical  deduc- 
tion nor  solely  by  insight  into  the  nature  of  things — 
if  by  this  we  mean  things  as  they  are.  We  must  rather 
take  as  our  starting-point  the  conviction  that  moral 
life  is  a  process  involving  physical  life,  social  inter- 
course, measuring  and  constructive  intelligence.  We 
shall  endeavor  to  further  each  of  these  factors  with  the 
conviction  that  thus  we  are  most  likely  to  reconstruct 
our  standards  and  find  a  fuller  good.* 

*Art  and  religion  have  doubtiess  their  important  parts  In  em- 
bodying values,  or  in  adding  the  consciousness  of  membership  in 


THE  MORAL  LIFE 


405 


Physical  life,  which  has  often  been  depreciated  from 
the  moral  point  of  view,  is  not  indeed  by  itself  supreme, 
but  it  is  certain  that  much  evil  charged  to  a  bad  will 
is  due  to  morbid  or  defective  conditions  of  the  physical 
organism.  One  would  be  ashamed  to  write  such  a  truism 
were  it  not  that  our  juvenile  courts  and  our  prison 
investigations  show  how  far  we  are  from  having  sensed 
it  in  the  past.  And  our  present  labor  conditions  show 
how  far  our  organization  of  industry  is  from  any  decent 
provision  for  a  healthy,  sound,  vigorous  life  of  all  the 
people.  This  war  is  shocking  in  its  destruction,  but 
it  is  doubtful  if  it  can  do  the  harm  to  Great  Britain 
that  her  factory  system  has  done.  And  if  life  is  in 
one  respect  less  than  ideals,  in  another  respect  it  is 
greater;  for  it  provides  the  possibility  not  only  of 
carrying  out  existing  ideals  but  of  the  birth  of  new 
and  higher  ideals. 

Social  interaction  likewise  has  been  much  discussed 
but  is  still  very  inadequately  realized.  The  great  pos- 
sibilities of  cooperation  have  long  been  utilized  in  war. 
With  the  factory  and  commercial  organization  of  the 
past  century  we  have  hints  of  their  economic  power. 
Our  schools,  books,  newspapers,  are  removing  some  of 
the  barriers.  But  how  far  different  social  classes  are 
from  any  knowledge,  not  to  say  appreciation,  of  each 
other !  How  far  different  races  are  apart !  How  easy 
to  inculcate  national  hatred  and  distrust !  The  fourth 
great  problem  which  baffles  Wells's  hero  in  the  Research 

a  larger  union  of  spirits,  or  of  relation  to  a  cosmic  order  conceived 
as  ethical,  but  the  limits  of  our  discussion  do  not  permit  treat- 
ment of  these  factors. 


406 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


Magnificent  is  yet  far  from  solution.  The  great  danger 
to  morality  in  America  lies  not  in  any  theory  as  to  the 
fiubjectivity  of  the  moral  judgment,  but  in  the  conflict 
of  classes  and  races. 

Intelligence  and  reason  are  in  certain  respects  ad- 
vancing. The  social  sciences  are  finding  tools  and 
methods.  We  are  learning  to  think  of  much  of  our 
moral  inertia,  our  waste  of  life,  our  narrowness,  our 
muddling  and  blundering  in  social  arrangements,  as 
stupid — we  do  not  like  to  be  called  stupid  even  if  we 
f com  the  imputation  of  claiming  to  be  "  good."  But 
we  do  not  organize  peace  as  effectively  as  war.  We 
shrink  before  the  thought  of  expending  for  scientific 
investigation  sum'fe  comparable  with  those  used  for  mili- 
tary purposes.  And  is  scholarship  entitled  to  shift  the 
blame  entirely  upon  other  interests?  Perhaps  if  it 
conceived  its  tasks  in  greater  terms  and  addressed  itself 
to  them  more  energetically  it  would  find  greater  sup- 
port. 

And  finally  the  process  of  judgment  and  appraisal, 
of  examination  and  revaluation.  To  judge  for  the 
sake  of  judging,  to  analyze  and  evaluate  for  the  sake 
of  the  process  hardly  seems  worth  while.  But  if  we 
supply  the  process  with  the  new  factors  of  increased 
life,  physical,  social,  intelligent,  we  shall  be  compelled 
to  new  valuations.  Such  has  been  the  course  of  moral 
development;  we  may  expect  this  to  be  repeated.  The 
great  war  and  the  changes  that  emerge  ought  to  set 
new  tasks  for  ethical  students.  As  medievalism,  the 
century  of  enlightenment,  and  the  century  of  indus- 
trial revolution,  each  had  its  ethics,  so  the  century 


THE  MORAL  LIFE 


407 


that  follows  ought  to  have  its  ethics,  roused  by  the 
problem  of  dealing  fundamentally  with  economic,  social, 
racial,  and  national  relations,  and  using  the  resources 
of  better  scientific  method  than  belonged  to  the  ethical 
systems  which  served  well  their  time. 

Only  wilful  misinterpretation  will  suppose  that  the 
method  here  set  forth  is  that  of  taking  every  want 
or  desire  as  itself  a  final  justification,  or  of  making 
morality  a  matter  of  arbitrary  caprice.  But  some  may 
in  all  sincerity  raise  the  question:  "Is  morality  then 
after  all  simply  the  shifting  mores  of  groups  stum- 
bling forward — or  backward,  or  sidewise — with  no  fixed 
standards  of  right  and  good?  If  this  is  so  how  can  we 
have  any  confidence  in  our  present  judgments,  to  say 
nothing  of  calling  others  to  an  account  or  of  reasoning 
with  them  ?  "  What  we  have  aimed  to  present  as  a  n 
moral  method  is  essentially  this:  to  take  into  our  reck- 
oning all  the  factors  in  the  situation,  to  take  into 
account  the  other  persons  involved,  to  put  ourselves 
into  their  places  by  sympathy  as  well  as  conceptually, 
to  face  collisions  and  difficulties  not  merely  in  terms 
of  fixed  concepts  of  what  is  good  or  fair,  and  what 
the  right  of  each  party  concerned  may  be,  but  with 
the  conviction  that  we  need  new  definitions  of  the  ideal 
life,  and  of  the  social  order,  and  thus  reciprocally  of 
personality.  Thus  harmonized,  free,  and  responsible, 
life  may  well  find  new  meaning  also  in  the  older  intrinsic 
goods  of  friendship,  aesthetic  appreciation  and  true 
belief.  And  it  is  not  likely  to  omit  the  satisfaction  in 
actively  constructing  new  ideals  and  working  for  their 
fulfilment. 


408 


CREATIVE   INTELLIGENCE 


Frankly,  if  we  do  not  accept  this  method  what  re- 
mains? Can  any  one  by  pure  reason  discover  a  single 
forward  step  in  the  treatment  of  the  social  situation 
or  a  single  new  value  in  the  moral  ideal?  Can  any 
analysis  of  the  pure  concept  of  right  and  good  teach 
us  anything?  In  the  last  analysis  the  moral  judgment 
is  not  analytic  but  synthetic.  The  moral  life  is  not 
natural  but  spiritual.    And  spirit  is  creative* 


.ii» 


VALUE    AND    EXISTENCE    IN    PHILOSOPHY, 

ART,  AND  RELIGION 

HORACE    M.    KALLEN 

He  who  assiduously  compares  the  profound  and  the 
commonplace  will  find  their  difference  to  turn  merely 
on  the  manner  of  their  expression;  a  profundity  is  a 
commonplace  formulated  in  strange  or  otherwise  ob- 
•cure  and  unintelligible  terms.     This  must  be  my  ex- 
ruse  for  beginning  with  the  trite  remark  that  the  world 
we  live  in  is  not  one  which  was  made  for  us,  but  one 
in  which  we  happened  and  grew.     I  am  much  aware 
that  there  exists  a  large  and  influential  class  of  per- 
sons who  do  not  think  so ;  and  I  offer  this  remark  with 
all  deference  to  devotees  of  idealism,  and  to  other  such 
pietists  who  persist  in  arguing  that  the  trouble  which 
we  do  encounter  in  this  vale  of  tears  springs  from  the 
inwardness  of  our  own  natures  and  not  from  that  of 
the  world.    I  wish,  indeed,  that  I  could  agree  with  them, 
but  unhappily  their  very  arguments  prevent  me,  since, 
if  the  world  were  actually  as  they  think  it,  they  could 
not  think  it  as  they  do.    In  fact,  they  could  not  think. 
Thinking — ^worse  luck! — came  into  being  as  response 
to  discomfort,  to  pain,  to  uncertainty,  to  problems, 
such  as  could  not  exist  in  a  world  truly  made  for  us; 
while  from  time  immemorial  'pure  as  distinct  from  human 
consciousness  has  been  identified  with  absolute  certainty, 

with  self -absorption  and  self-suflSciency ;  as  a  god,  a 

40» 


i^W 


410  CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 

goal  to  attain,  not  a  fact  to  rest  in.  It  is  notable 
that  those  who  believe  the  world  actually  to  have  been 
made  for  us  devote  most  of  their  thinking  to  explaining 
away  the  experiences  which  have  made  all  men  feel  that 
the  world  was  actually  not  made  for  us.  Their  chief 
business,  after  proving  the  world  to  be  all  good,  is 
solving  "  the  problem  of  evil."  Yet,  had  there  really 
been  no  evil,  this  evil  consequence  could  not  have  en- 
sued: existence  would  have  emerged  as  beatitude  and 
not  as  adjustment;  thinking  might  in  truth  have 
been  self-absorbed  contemplation,  blissful  intuition, 
not    painful   learning   by    the   method    of    trial    and 

error. 

Alas  that  what  "  might  have  been  "  cannot  come  into 
being  by  force  of  discursive  demonstration !    If  it  could, 
goodness  alone  would  have  existed  and  been  real,  and 
evil  would  have  been  non-existence,  unreality,  and  ap- 
pearance— all  by  the  force  of  the  Word.    As  it  is,  the 
appearance  of  evil  is  in  so  far  forth  no  less  an  evil 
than  its  reality ;  in  truth,  it  is  reality  and  its  best  wit- 
nesses are  the  historic  attempts  to  explain  it  away.    For 
even  as  "  appearance  "  it  has  a  definite  and  inexpugnable 
character  of  its  own  which  cannot  be  destroyed  by  sub- 
sumption  under  the  "  standpoint  of  the  whole,"  "  the 
absolute  good,"  the  "  over-individual  values."  Nor,  since 
only  sticks  and  stones  break  bones  and  names  never 
hurt,  can  it  be  abolished  by  the  epithet  "  appearance." 
■"  To  deny  reality  to  evil  is  to  multiply  the  evil.     It  is 
to  make  two  "  problems "  grow  where  only  one  grew 
before,  to  add  to  the  "  problem  of  evil "  the  "  problem 
of  appearance"  without  serving  any  end  toward  the 


VALUE  AND  EXISTENCE 


411 


solution  of  the  real  problem  how  evil  can  be  effectively 
abolished. 

I  may  then,  in  view  of  these  reflections,  hold  myself 
safe  in  assuming  that  the  world  we  live  in  was  not  made 
for  us ;  that,  humanly  speaking,  it  is  open  to  improve- 
ment in  a  great  many  directions.  It  will  be  compara- 
tively innocuous  to  assume  also,  as  a  corollary,  that 
in  so  far  as  the  world  was  made  for  mind,  it  has  been 
made  so  by  man,  that  civilization  is  the  adaptation  of 
nature  to  human  nature.  And  as  a  second  corollary 
it  may  be  safely  assumed  that  the  world  does  not  stay 
made;  civilization  has  brought  its  own  problems  and 
peculiar  evils. 

I  realize  that,  in  the  light  of  my  title,  much  of  what 
I  have  written  above  must  seem  irrelevant,  since  the 
"  problem  of  evil "  has  not,  within  the  philosophic  tra- 
dition, been  considered  part  of  a  "  problem  of  values  " 
as  such.  If  I  dwell  on  it,  I  do  so  to  indicate  that  the 
"  problem  of  evil "  can  perhaps  be  best  understood  in 
the  light  of  another  problem:  the  problem,  namely,  of 
why  men  have  created  the  "  problem  of  evil."  For 
obviously,  evil  can  be  problematic  only  in  an  absolutely 
good  world,  and  the  idea  that  the  world  is  absolutely 
good  is  not  a  generalization  upon  experience,  but  a 
contradiction  of  experience.  If  there  exists  a  meta- 
physical "  problem  of  evil,"  hence,  it  arises  out  of  this 
generalization;  it  is  secondary,  not  primary;  and  the 
primary  problem  requires  solution  before  the  secondary 
one  can  be  understood.  And  what  else,  under  the  cir- 
cumstances, can  the  primary  one  be  than  this :  "  Why 
do  men  contradict  their  own  experience?" 


h 


41S 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


VALUE  AND  EXISTENCE 


413 


So  put,  the  problem  suggests  its  own  solution.  It 
indicates,  first  of  all  J  that  nature  and  human  nature 
are  not  completely  compatible,  that  consequently,  con- 
clusions are  being  forced  by  nature  on  human  nature 
which  human  nature  resents  and  rejects,  and  that  traits 
are  being  assigned  to  nature  by  human  nature  which 
nature  does  not  possess,  but  which,  if  possessed,  would 
make  her  congenial  to  human  needs^  All  this  is  so 
platitudinous  that  I  feel  ashamed  to  write  it;  but  then, 
how  can  one  avoid  platitudes  without  avoiding  truth? 
And  truth  here  is  the  obvious  fact  that  since  human 
nature  is  the  point  of  existence  to  which  good  and  evil 
refer, [what  is  called  value  has  its  seat  necessarily  in 
human  nature,  and  what  is  called  existence  has  its  seat 
necessarily  in  the  nature  of  which  human  nature  is  a 
part  and  apart.  Value,  in  so  far  forth,  is  a  content  of 
nature,  having  its  roots  in  her  conditions  and  its  life 
in  her  force,  while  the  converse  is  not  true.  All  nature 
and  all  existence  is  not  spontaneously  and  intrinsically 
a  content  of  value.  Only  that  portion  of  it  which  is 
human  is  such.  Humanly  speaking,  non-human  exist- 
ences become  valuable  by  their  efficacious  bearing 
on  humanity,  by  their  propitious  or  their  disastrous 
relations  to  human  consciousness.  It  is  these  relations 
which  delimit  the  substance  of  our  goods  and  evils,  and 
these,  at  bottom,  are  indistinguishable  from  conscious- 
ness. They  do  not,  need  not,  and  cannot  connect  all 
existence  with  human  life.  They  are  inevitably  impli- 
cated only  with  those  which  make  human  life  possible 


at  all.  Of  the  environment,  they  pertain  only  to  that 
portion  which  is  fit  by  the  implicated  conditions  of  life 
itself.  It  may  therefore  be  said  that  natural  existence 
produces  and  sustains  some  values, — at  least  the  mini- 
mal value  which  is  identical  with  the  bare  existence  of 
mankind — on  its  own  account,  but  no  more.  The  residual 
environment  remains — irrelevant  and  menacing,  wider 
than  consciousness  and  independent  of  it.  Value,  hence,^ 
is  a  specific  kind  of  natural  existence  among  other  ex- 
istences. To  say  that  it  is  non-existent  in  nature,  is 
to  say  that  value  is  not  coincident  and  coexistent  with 
other  existences,  just  as  when  it  is  said  that  a  thing 
is  not  red,  the  meaning  is  that  red  is  not  copresent 
with  other  qualities.  Conversely,  to  say  that  value 
exists  in  nature  is  to  say  that  nature  and  human  nature, 
things  and  thoughts,  are  in  some  respect  harmonious 
or  identical.  Hence,  what  human  nature  tries  to  force 
upon  nature  must  be,  by  implication,  non-existent  in 
nature  but  actual  in  mind,  so  that  the  nature  of  value 
must  be  held  inseparable  from  the  nature  of  mind.* 
^'  It  follows  that  value  is,  in  origin  and  character, 
{completely  irrational.  At  the  foundations  of  our  exist- 
ence it  is  relation  of  their  conditions  and  objects  to 
our  major  instincts,  our  appetites,  our  feelings,  our 
desires,  our  ambitions — most  clearly,  to  the  self-regard- 
ing instinct  and  the  instincts  of  nutrition,  reproduc- 
tion, and  gregariousness.  Concerning  those,  as  William 
James  writes,  "  Science  may  come  and  consider  their 
ways  and  find  that  most  of  them  are  useful.  But  it  is 
not  for  the  sake  of  their  utility  that  they  are  followed, 

•  Of.  my  paper,  "  Goodness,  Cognition,  and  Beauty,"  Journal  of 
Philosophy,  Psychology,  and  Scientific  Methods,  Vol.  IX,  p.  S53. 


414 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


but  because  at  the  moment  of  following  them  we  feel 
that  it  is  the  only  appropriate  and  natural  thing  to 
do.  Not  a  man  in  a  billion  when  taking  his  dinner, 
ever  thinks  of  utility.  He  eats  because  the  food  tastes 
good  and  makes  him  want  more.  If  you  ask  him  why 
he  should  want  to  eat  more  of  what  tastes  like  that, 
instead  of  revering  you  as  a  philosopher,  he  will  prob- 
ably laugh  at  you  for  a  fool.  The  connection  between 
the  savory  sensation  and  the  act  it  awakens  is  for  him 
absolute  and  selbstverstandlich^  an  a  priori  synthesis  of 
the  most  perfect  sort,  needing  no  proof  but  its  own 
evidence.  ...  To  the  metaphysician  alone  can  such 
questions  occur  as  *  Why  do  we  smile  when  pleased,  and 
not  scowl?  Why  are  we  unable  to  talk  to  a  crowd  as 
we  talk  to  a  single  friend?  Why  does  a  particular 
maiden  turns  our  wits  upside  down?  '  The  common  man 
can  only  say  *  of  course  we  smile,  of  course  our  heart 
palpitates  at  the  sight  of  a  crowd,  of  course  we  love 
the  maiden,  that  beautiful  soul  clad  in  that  perfect 
form,  so  palpably  and  flagrantly  made  from  all  eter- 
nity to  be  loved.'  And  so,  probably,  does  each  animal 
feel  about  the  particular  things  it  tends  to  do  in  the 
presence  of  particular  objects.  .  .  .  To  the  broody 
hen  the  notion  would  probably  seem  monstrous  that 
there  should  be  a  creature  in  the  world  to  whom  a  nest- 
ful  of  eggs  was  not  the  utterly  fascinating  and  precious 
and  never-to-be-too-much-set-upon  object  it  is  to  her." 
In  sum,  fundamental  values  are  relations,  responses, 
"■^^attitudes,  immediate,  simple,  subjectively  obvious,  and 
Irrational.  But  everything  else  becomes  valuable  or 
rational  only  by  reference  to  them. 


VALUE  AND  EXISTENCE 


415 


Study  them  or  others  empirically,*  and  they  appear 
as  types  of  specific  behavior,  simple  or  complicated, 
consisting  of  a  given  motor  "  set "  of  the  organism, 
strong  emotional  tone,  and  aggregates  of  connected 
ideas,  more  or  less  systematized.  In  the  slang  of  the 
new  medical  psychology  which  has  done  so  much  to 
uncover  their  method  and  mechanism,  they  are  called 
"  complexes " ;  ethics  has  called  them  interests,  and 
that  designation  will  do  well  enough.  They  are  the 
primary  and  morally  ultimate  efficacious  units  of  which 
human  nature  is  compounded,  and  it  is  in  terms  of  the 
world's  bearing  upon  their  destiny  that  we  evaluate 
nature  and  judge  her  significance  and  worth. 

Now  in  interest,  the  important  delimiting  quality  is 
emotional  tone.  Whatever  else  is  sharable,  that  is  not. 
It  is  the  very  stuff  of  our  attitudes,  of  our  acceptances 
and  rejections  of  the  world  and  its  contents,  the  very 
essence  of  the  relations  we  bear  to  these.  That  these 
relations  shall  be  identical  for  any  two  human  beings 
requires  that  the  two  shall  be  identical:  two  persons 
cannot  hold  the  same  relation  to  the  same  or  different 
objects  any  more  than  two  objects  can  occupy  abso- 
lutely the  same  space  at  the  same  time.  Hence,  all  our 
differences  and  disagreements.  However  socially-minded 
we  may  be,  mere  numerical  diversity  compels  us  to  act 
as  separate  centers,  to  value  things  with  reference  to 
separate  interests,  to  orient  our  worlds  severally,  and 
with  ourselves  as  centers.    This  orienting  is  the  relating\ 

*Cf.  Thorndike,  The  Original  Nature  of  Man;  S.  Freud, 
Die  Traumdeutung ,  Psychopathologie  dea  Alltagsleben,  etc.; 
McDougall,  Social  Psychology. 


416 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


VALUE  AND  EXISTENCE 


417 


of  the  environment  to  our  interests,  the  establishment 
of  our  worlds  of  appreciation,  the  creation  of  our  orders 
of  value.  However  much  these  cross  and  interpenetrate, 
coincide  they  never  can. 

Our  interests,  furthermore,  are  possibly  as  numerous 
as  our  reflex  arcs.  Each  may,  and  most  do,  constitute 
distinct  and  independent  valuations  of  their  objects,  to 
which  they  respond,  and  each,  with  these  objects,  re- 
mains an  irreducible  system.  But  reflex  arcs  and  in- 
terests do  not  act  alone.  They  act  like  armies;  they 
compound  and  are  integrated,  and  when  so  integrated 
their  valuations  fuse  and  constitute  the  more  complex 
and  massive  feelings,  pleasures  and  pains,  the  emotions 
of  anger,  of  fear,  of  love ;  the  sentiments  of  respect,  of 
admiration,  of  sympathy.  They  remain,  through  all 
degrees  of  complexity,  appraisements  of  the  environ- 
ment, reactions  upon  it,  behavior  toward  it,  as  subject  to 
empirical  examination  by  the  psychologist  as  the  en- 
vironment itself  by  the  physicist. 

With  a  difference,  however,  a  fundamental  difference. 
When  you  have  an  emotion  you  cannot  yourself  exam- 
ine it.  Effectively  as  the  mind  may  work  in  sections, 
it  cannot  with  sanity  be  divided  against  itself  nor  long 
remain  so.  A  feeling  cannot  be  had  and  examined  in 
the  same  time.  And  though  the  investigator  who 
studies  the  nature  of  red  does  not  become  red,  the  inves- 
tigator who  studies  the  actual  emotion  of  anger  does 
tend  to  become  angry.  Emotion  is  infectious;  anger 
begets  anger ;  fear,  fear ;  love,  love ;  hate,  hate ;  actions, 
relations,  attitudes,  when  actual,  integrate  and  fuse; 
as  feelings,  they  constitute  the  sense  of  behavior,  vary- 


ing according  to  a  changing  and  unstable  equilibrium 
of  factors  zsnthin  the  organism ;  they  are  actually  under- 
neath the  skin,  and  consequently,  to  know  them  alive  is  to 
have  them.    On  the  other  hand,  to  know  things  is  sim- 
ply to  have  a  relation  to  them.     The  same  thing  may 
be  both  loved  and  hated,  desired  or  spurned,  by  differ- 
ent minds  at  the  same  time  or  by  the  same  mind  at 
diff^erent  times.    One,  for  example,  values  whiskey  posi- 
tively, approaches,  absorbs  it,  aims  to  increase  its  quan- 
tity and  sale;  another  apprehends  it  negatively,  turns 
from  it,  strives  to  oust  it  from  the  world.     Then,  ac- 
cording to  these  direct   and  immediate  valuations   of 
whiskey,  its  place  in  the  common  world  of  the  two  minds 
will  be  determined.     To  save  or  destroy  it,  they  may 
seek  to  destroy  each  other.    Even  similar  positive  val- 
uations of  the  object  might  imply  this  mutual  repug- 
nance and  destruction.     Thus,  rivals  in  love:  they  en- 
hance and  glorify  the  same  woman,  but  as  she  is  not 
otherwise  sharable,  they  strive  to  eliminate  each  other. 
Throughout  the  world  of  values  the  numerical  distinct- 
ness of  the  seats  or  centers  of  value,  whatever  their 
identity    otherwise,    keeps    them    ultimately    inimical. 
They  may  terminate  in  the  common  object,  but  they 
originate  in  different  souls  and  they  are  related  to  the 
object  like  two  magnets  of  like  polarity  to  the  same 
piece  of  iron  that  lies  between  them.     MogL  of  what  is 
orderly  in  society  and  in  science  is  the  outcome  of  the 
adjustment  of  just  such  oppositions:  our  civilization 
is  an  unstable  equilibrum  of  objects,  through  the  coop- 
eration, antipathy,  and  fusion  of  value-relations. 

Individuals  are  no  better  off;  personality  is  con- 


i;ll 


H 


418 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


VALUE  AND  EXISTENCE 


419 


stnicted  in  the  same  way.  If,  indeed,  the  world  had 
been  made  for  us,  we  might  have  been  spared  this 
warfare  to  man  upon  earth.  Life  might  have  been  the 
obvious  irrational  flow  of  bliss  so  vividly  described  by 
William  James;  nature  and  human  nature  would  have 
been  one;  bridging  the  gulf  between  them  would  never 
have  been  the  task  of  the  tender-minded  among  philoso- 
phers, njnfortunately  our  mere  numerical  difference, 
the  mere  numerical  difference  of  the  interests  which 
compose  our  egos,  makes  the  trouble,  so  that  we  are 
compelled  to  devote  most  of  our  lives  to  converting  the 
different  into  the  same..  The  major  part  of  our  in- 
stincts serve  this  function  recognizably,  e.g.,  nutrition, 
and  the  "  higher  powers "  do  so  no  less,  if  not  so 
obviously.  Generalization  is  nothing  more,  thinking 
nothing  else.  It  is  the  assimilation  of  many  instances 
into  one  form,  law,  or  purpose;  the  preservation  of 
established  contents  of  value,  just  as  nutrition  is  the 
preservation  of  life  by  means  of  the  conversion  of  for- 
eign matter  into  the  form  and  substance  of  the  body. 
By  bowels  and  by  brain,  what  is  necessary,  what  will 
feed  the  irrationally  given  interest,  is  preserved  and 
consumed:  the  rest  is  cast  off  as  waste,  as  irrelevance, 
as  contradiction. 

The  relation  may,  of  course,  also  reverse  itself.  Face 
to  face  with  the  immovable  and  inexorable,  the  mind 
may  accept  it  with  due  resignation,  or  it  may  challenge 
its  tyranny  and  exclude  it  from  its  world.  It  may 
seek  or  create  or  discover  a  substitute  that  it  is  con- 
tent to  accept,  though  this  will  in  turn  alter  the  course 
and  character  of  the  interest  which  in  such  an  instance 


defines  the  mind's  action.     Thus,  a  way  out  for  one  of 
the  lovers  of  the  same  girl  might  be  to  become  a  de- 
pressed and  yearning  bachelor,  realizing  his  potential 
sexuality  in  the  vicarious  reproduction  of  reverie  and 
sentiment;  another  might  be  to  divert  the  stream  of 
his  affections  to  another  girl,  reorganizing  his  life  about 
a  different  center  and  acquiring  a  new  system  of  prac- 
tical values  determined  by  this  center;  a  third  might 
be  a  complete  redirection  of  his  sexual  energies  upon 
objects  the  interest  in  which  we  would  call,  abnormal 
and  anti-social  in  one  case,  and  in  another  lofty  and 
spiritual.     In  the  latter  case  sexuality  would  have  been 
depersonalized;  it  would  have  changed  into  poetic  and 
humanitarian  passion;  it  would  have  become  love   as 
Plato  means  us  to  take  the  word.    IS^ut  each  of  these 
processes  would  have  been  a  conversion,  through  the  \ 
need  defined  by  an  identical  instinct,  of  the  same  into    j 
the  different;  the  human  nature  which  existed  at  the 
beginning  of  the   change  would  be  deeply  other  than 
the  human  nature  in  which  the  change  culminated.     In 
each   case  a   condition   thrust   upon   the   spirit  by   its 
environment  would  have  occasioned  the  creation  and 
maintenance  of  an  environment  demanded  by  the  spirit. 
Yet  in  so  far  as  it  was  not  truly  the  same  as  that 
envisaged  in  the  primitive  demand,  it  would  still  imply 
the  tragedy  of  the  world  not  made  for  us  and  the  "  prob- 
lem of  evil,"  in  which  the  life  of  the  spirit  is  persistently 
a  salvage  of  one  of  two  always  incompatible  goods,  at 
saving  by  surrender. 

A^  this  is  all  that  a  mind  is — an  affair  of  saving 
and  rejecting,  of  valuing  with  a  system  of  objects  of 


■^ 


420  CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 

which  a  living  body  and  its  desires  and  operations,  its  in- 
terests,  are   focal   and  the   objects   marginal,  for  its 
standard.    Mind,  thus,  is  neither  simple,  nor  immutable, 
nor  stable ;  it  is  a  thing  to  be  "  changed,"  "  confused," 
"  cleared,"  "  made-up,"  "  trained."     One  body,  I  have 
written  elsewhere,*  "  in  the  course  of  its  lifetime,  has 
many  minds,  only  partially  united.     Men  are  all  too 
often  "  of  two  minds."  The  unity  of  a  mind  depends  on 
its  consistent  pursuit  of  one  interest,  although  we  then 
call  it  narrow;  or  on  the  cooperation  and  harmony  of 
its  many  interests.     Frequently,  two  or  more  minds 
may  struggle  for  the  possession  of  the  same  body ;  that 
is,  the  body  may  be  divided  by  two  elaborately  syste- 
matized tendencies  to  act.    The  beginning  of  such  divi- 
sion occurs  wherever  there  is  a  difficulty  in  deciding  be- 
tween alternative  modes  of  behavior ;  the  end  is  to  be 
observed  in  those  cases  of  dual  or  multiple  personality 
in  which  the  body  has  ordered  a  great  collection  of 
objects  and  systematized  so  large  a  collection  of  inter- 
ests in  such  typically  distinct  ways  as  to  have  set  up 
for  itself  different  and  opposed  "  minds."    On  the  other 
hand,  two  or  fifty  or  a  million  bodies  may  be  "  of  the 

same  mind." 

Unhappily,  difference  of  mind,  diversity  and  conflict 
of  interests  is  quite  as  fundamental,  if  not  more  so, 
as  sameness  of  mind,  cooperation  and  unity  of  interests. 
This  the  philosophical  tradition  sufficiently  attests.  To 
Plato  man  is  at  once  a  protean  beast,  a  lion,  and  an 
intellect;  the  last  having  for  its  proper  task  to  rule 

•The  Journal  of  Philosophy,  Psychology,  and  Scientific 
Methods,   VoL  IX,  p.  256. 


VALUE  AND  EXISTENCE 


421 


the  first  and  to  regulate  the  second,  which  is  always 
rebellious  and  irruptive.*  According  to  the  Christian 
tradition  man  is  at  once  flesh  and  spirit,  eternally  in 
conflict  with  one  another,  and  the  former  is  to  be  morti- 
fied that  the  latter  may  have  eternal  life.  Common 
sense  divides  us  into  head  and  heart,  never  quite  at 
peace  with  one  another.  There  is  no  need  of  piling 
up  citations.  Add  to  the  inward  disharmonies  of  mind  \ 
its  incompatibilities  with  the  environment,  and  you  per-  ^H 
ceive  at  once  how  completely  it  is,  from  moment  to 
moment,  a  theater  and  its  life  a  drama  of  which  the 
interests  that  compose  it  are  at  once  protagonists  and 
directors.  The  catastrophe  of  this  unceasing  drama 
is  always  that  one  or  more  of  the  players  is  driven  from 
the  stage  of  conscious  existence.  It  may  be  that  the 
environment — social  conditions,  commercial  necessity, 
intellectual  urgency,  allies  of  other  interests — will  drive 
it  off;  it  may  be  that  its  own  intrinsic  unpleasantness 
will  banish  it,  will  put  it  out  of  mind;  whatever  the 
cause,  it  is  put  out.  Putting  it  out  does  not,  however, 
end  the  drama ;  putting  it  out  serves  to  complicate  the 
drama.  For  the  "  new  psychology  "  f  shows  that  when- 
ever an  interest  or  a  desire  or  impulsion  is  put  out  of 
the  mind,  it  is  really,  if  not  extirpated,  put  into  the  | 
mind ;  it  is  driven  from  the  conscious  level  of  existence 
to  the  unconscious.  It  retains  its  force  and  direction, 
only  its  work  now  lies  underground.  Its  life  hence- 
forward consists  partly  in  a  direct  oppugnance  to  the 

•  Cf.  Plato,  Republic,  IX,  571,  572,  for  an  explicit  anticipation 
of  Freud,    t  This  **  new  psyciiology  "  is  not  so  very  new. 


422 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


inhibitions  that  keep  it  down,  partly  in  burrowing  be- 
neath and  around  them  and  seeking  out  unwonted  chan- 
nels of  escape.  Since  life  is  long,  repressions  accumu- 
late, the  mass  of  existence  of  feeling  and  desire  tends  to 
become  composed  entirely  of  these  repressions,  layer 
upon  layer,  with  every  interest  in  the  aggregate  striv- 
ing to  attain  place  in  the  daylight  of  consciousness. 

Now,  empirically  and  metaphysically,  no  one  interest 
is  more  excellent  than  any  other.  Repressed  or  patent, 
each  is,  whether  in  a  completely  favorable  environment 
or  in  a  completely  indifferent  universe,  or  before  the 
bar  of  an  absolute  justice,  or  under  the  domination  of 
an  absolute  and  universal  good,  entitled  to  its  free  ful- 
filment and  perfect  maintenance.  Each  is  a  form  of 
the  good ;  the  essential  content  of  each  is  good.  That 
any  are  not  fulfilled,  but  repressed,  is  a  fact  to  be  re- 
corded, not  an  appearance  to  be  explained  away.  And 
it  may  turn  out  that  the  existence  of  the  fact  may 
explain  the  effort  to  explain  it  away.  For  where  in- 
terests are  in  conflict  with  each  other  or  with  reality, 
and  where  the  loser  is  not  extirpated,  its  revenge  may 
be  just  this  self-fulfilment  in  unreality,  in  idea,  which 
philosophies  of  absolute  values  offer  it.  Dreams,  some 
of  the  arts,  religion,  and  philosophy  may  indeed  be  con- 
sidered as  such  fulfilments,  worlds  of  luxuriant  self- 
realization  of  all  that  part  of  our  nature  which  the 
harsh  conjunctions  with  the  environment  overthrow  and 
suppress.  CSometimes  abortive  self-expressions  of  frus- 
trated desires,  sometimes  ideal  compensations  for  the 
\  shortcomings  of  existence,  they  are  always  equally  ideal 
reconstructions  of  the  surrounding  evil  of  the  world 


VALUE  AND  EXISTENCE 


425 


into  forms  of  the  good.  And  because  they  are  com- 
pensations in  idea,  they  are  substituted  for  existence, 
appraised  as  "true,"  and  "good,"  and  "beautiful," 
and  "  real,"  while  the  experiences  which  have  suppressed 
the  desires  they  realize  are  condemned  as  illusory  and 
unreal.  In  them  humanity  has  its  freest  play  and  am- 
plest expression. 

m 

This  has  been,  and  still  to  a  very  great  extent  re- 
mains, most  specifically  true  of  philosophy.  The  en- 
vironment with  which  philosophy  concerns  itself  is  noth- 
ing less  than  the  whole  universe;  its  content  is,  within 
the  history  of  its  dominant  tradition,  absolutely  general 
and  abstract ;  it  is,  of  all  great  human  enterprises,  even 
religion,  least  constrained  by  the  direction  and  march 
of  events  or  the  mandate  of  circumstance.  Like  music, 
it  expresses  most  truly  the  immediate  and  intrinsic  in- 
terests of  the  mind,  its  native  bias  and  its  inward  goal. 
It  has  been  constituted,  for  this  reason,  of  the  so-called 
"  normative  "  sciences,  envisaging  the  non-existent  as 
real,  forcing  upon  nature  pure  values,  forms  of  the 
spirit  incident  to  the  total  life  of  this  world,  unmixed 
with  baser  matter.  To  formulate  ultimate  standards, 
to  be  completely  and  utterly  lyrical  has  been  the  pre- 
rogative of  philosophy  alone.  Since  these  standards 
reappear  in  all  other  reconstructions  of  the  environ- 
ment and  most  clearly  in  art  and  in  religion,  it  is  perti- 
nent to  enumerate  them,  and  to  indicate  briefly  their 
bearing  on  existence. 

The  foremost  outstanding  is  perhaps  "  the  unity  of 


424 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


% 

f 


the  world."     Confronted  by  the  perplexing  menace  of 
the  variation  of  experience,  the  dichotomies  and  oppo- 
sitions of  thoughts  and  things,  the  fusion  and  diversifi- 
cations of  many  things  into  one  and  one  into  many, 
mankind  has,  from  the  moment  it  became  reflective,  felt 
in  the  relation  of  the  One  and  the  Many  the  presence 
of  a  riddle  that  engendered  and  sustained  uneasiness, 
a  mystery  that  concealed  a  threat.     The  mind's  own 
preference,  given  the  physiological  processes  that  con- 
dition its  existence,  constitution,  and  operation,  could 
hardly  come  to  rest  in  a  more  fundamental  normation 
than  Unity.    A  world  which  is  one  is  easier  to  live  in 
I    and  with;  initial  adjustment  therein  is  final  adjust- 
ment ;  in  its  substance  there  exists  nothing  sudden  and  in 
its   character   nothing  uncontrollable.      It   guarantees 
whatever  vital  equilibrium  the  organism  has  achieved 
in  it,  ill  or  good.     It  secures  life  in  attainment  and 
f  possession,  insuring  it  repose,  simplicity,  and  spacious- 
i  ness.    A  world  which  is  many  complicates  existence :  it 
demands  watchful  consideration  of  irreducible  discrete 
ndividualities :  it  necessitates  the  integration  and  hu- 
manization  in  a  common  system  of  adjustment  of  en- 
tities which  in  the  last  analysis  refuse  all  ordering  and 
reject  all  subordination,  consequently  keeping  the  mind 
on  an  everlasting  jump,  compelling  it  to  pay  with  eter- 
nal vigilance  the  price  of  being.     The  preference  for 
unity,  then,  is   almost   inevitable,  and   the  history   of 
philosophy,  from  the  Vedas  to  the  Brahma  Somaj  and 
from  Thales  to  Bergson,  is  significantly  unanimous  in 
its    attempts    to   prove   that   the   world   is,   somehow, 
through  and  through  one.     That  the  oneness  require* 


/■» 


VALUE  AND  EXISTENCE 


425 


proof  is  prima  facte  evidence  that  it  is  a  value,  a  de- 
siderate, not  an  existence.  And  how  valuable  it  is  may 
be  seen  merely  in  the  fact  that  it  derealizes  the  inner 
conflict  of  interests,  the  incompatibilities  between  na- 
ture and  man,  the  uncertainties  of  knowledge,  and  the 
certainties  of  evil,  and  substitutes  therefor  the  ultimate 
happy  unison  which  "the  identity  of  the  diff'erent " 
compels. 

Unity  is  the  common  desiderate  of  philosophic  sys- 
tems of  all  metaphysical  types — neutral,  materialistic, 
idealistic.  But  the  dominant  tradition  has  tended  to 
think  this  unity  in  terms  of  interest,  of  spirit,  of 
mentality.  It  has  tended,  in  a  word,  to  assimilate  na- 
ture to  human  nature,  to  identify  things  with  the  values 
of  things,  to  envisage  the  world  in  the  image  of  man. 
To  it,  the  world  is  all  spirit,  ego,  or  idea;  and  if  not 
such  through  and  through,  then  entirely  subservient, 
in  its  unhumanized  parts,  to  the  purposes  and  interests 
of  ego,  idea,  or  spirit.  Why,  is  obvious.  A  world  of 
which  the  One  substance  is  such  constitutes  a  totality 
of  interest  and  purpose  which  faces  no  conflict  and  has 
no  enemy.  It  is  fulfilment  even  before  it  is  need,  and 
need,  indeed,  is  only  illusion.  Even  when  its  number 
is  many,  the  world  is  a  better  world  if  the  stuff  of  these 
many  is  the  same  stuffs  as  the  spirit  of  man.  For  mind 
is  more  at  home  with  mind  than  with  things ;  the  pathetic 
fallacy  is  the  most  inevitable  and  most  general.  Al- 
though the  totality  of  spirit  is  conceived  as  good,  that 
is,  as  actualizing  all  our  desiderates  and  ideals,  it  would 
still  be  felt  that,  even  if  the  totality  were  evil,  and  not 
God,  but  the  Devil  ruled  the  roost,  the  world  so  con- 


)    h 


426 


CREATIVE   INTELLIGENCE 


stituted  must  be  better  than  one  utterly  non-spiritual. 
We  can  understand  and  be  at  home  with  malevolence: 
it  offers  at  least  the  benefits  of  similarity,  of  compan- 
ionship, of  intimateness,  of  consubstantiality  with  wiU; 
its  behavior  may  be  foreseen  and  its  intentions  influ- 
enced ;  but  no  horror  can  be  greater  than  that  of  utter 
aliency.  How  much  of  religion  turns  with  a  persistent 
tropism  to  the  consideration  of  the  devil  and  his  works, 
and  how  much  it  has  fought  his  elimination  from  the 
cosmic  scheme!  Yet  never  because  it  loved  the  devil. 
The  deep-lying  reason  is  the  fact  that  the  humaniza- 
tion  of  Evil  into  Devil  mitigates  Evil  and  improves  the 
world.  Philosophy  has  been  least  free  from  this  cor- 
rective and  spiritizing  bias.  Though  it  has  cared  less 
for  the  devil,  it  has  predominantly  repudiated  aliency, 
has  sought  to  prove  spirit  the  cause  and  substance  of 
the  world,  and  in  that  degree,  to  transmute  the  aliency 
of  nature  into  sameness  with  human  nature. 

With  unity  and  spirituality,  eternity  makes  a  third. 
This  norm  is  a  fundamental  attribute  of  the  One  God 
himself,  and  interchangeable  with  his  ineffable  name: 
the  Lord  is  Eternal,  and  the  Eternal,  even  more  than  the 
One,  receives  the  eulogium  of  exclusive  realness.  To 
the  philosophical  tradition  it  is  the  most  real.  Once 
more  the  reason  should  be  obvious.  The  underlying 
urge  which  pushes  the  mind  to  think  the  world  as  a 
unity  pushes  it  even  more  inexorably  to  think  the  world 
as  timeless.  For  unity  is  asserted  only  against  the  per- 
plexities of  a  manyness  which  may  be  static  and 
unchanging,  and  hence  comparatively  simple.  But  eter- 
nity is  asserted  and  set  against  mutability :  it  is  the  nega- 


VALUE  AND  EXISTENCE 


427 


tion  of  change,  of  time,  of  novelty,  of  the  suddenness  and 
slaughter  of  the  flux  of  life  itself,  which  consumes  what 
it  generates,  undermines  what  it  builds  and  sweeps  to 
destruction  what  it  founds  to  endure.     Change  is  the^ 
arch-enemy  of  a  life  which  struggles  for  seU-preserva- j 
tion,  of  an  intellect  which  operates  spontaneously  by/ 
the  logic  of  identity,  of  a  will  which  seeks  to  convertj 
others  into  sames.     It  substitutes  a  different  self  for 
the  old,  it  falsifies  systems  of  thought  and  deteriorates 
systems  of  life.     It  makes  unity  impossible  and  many- 
ness inevitable.     It  upsets  every  actual  equilibrium  that 
life  attains.     It  opens  the  doors  and  windows  of  every 
closed  and  comfortable  cosmos  to  all  transcosmic  winds 
that  blow,  with  whatever  they  carry  of  possible  danger 
and  possible  ill.     It  is  the  very  soul  of  chaos  in  which 
the  pleasant,  ordered  world   is  such  a   little   helpless 
thing.    Of  this  change  eternity  is  by  primary  intention 
the  negation,  as  its  philological  form  shows.    It  is  not- 
time,  without  positive  intrinsic  content,  and  in  its  sec- 
ondary significances,  i.e.,  in  those  significances  which 
appear    in    metaphysical    dialectic,    without    meaning; 
since  it  is  there  a  pure  negation,  intrinsically  affirming 
nothing,  of  the  same  character  as  "  not-man  "  or  "  not- 
donkey,"  standing  for  a  nature  altogether  unspecific 
and  indeterminable  in  the  residual  universe.     By  a  sort 
of  obverse  implication  it  does,  however,  possess,  in  the 
philosophic  tradition,  a  positive  content  which  accrues 
to  it  by  virtue  of  what  it  denies.     This  content  makes 
it  a  designation  for  the  persistence  and  perdurability 
of  desiderated  quality — from  metaphysical  unity  and 
spirituality  to  the  happy  hunting-grounds  or  a  woman's 


i/ 


c 


'I' 


t^ 


'428 


CREATIVE   INTELLIGENCE 


affection.  At  bottom  it  means  the  assurance  that  the 
contents  of  value  cannot  and  will  not  be  altered  or 
destroyed,  that  their  natures  and  their  relations  to 
man  do  not  undergo  change.  There  is  no  recorded  at- 
tempt to  prove  that  evil  is  eternal:  eternity  is  eternity 
of  the  good  alone. 

Unity,  spirituality,  and  eternity,  then,  are  the  forms 
which  contents  of  value  receive  under  the  shaping  hands 
of  the  philosophic  tradition,  to  which  they  owe  their 
metaphysical  designation  and  of  which  the  business  has 
so  largely  and  uniquely  been  to  prove  them  the  founda- 
tions and  ontological  roots  of  universal  nature.  But 
"  the  problem  of  evil  "  does  not  come  to  complete  solu- 
tion with  these.  Even  in  a  single,  metaphysically  spirit- 
ual and  unchanging  world,  man  himself  may  still  be 
less  than  a  metaphysical  absolute  and  his  proper  in- 
dividuality doomed  to  absorption,  his  wishes  to  ob- 
struction and  frustration.  Of  man,  therefore,  the 
tradition  posits  immortality  and  freedom,  and  even  the 
materialistic  systems  have  sought  to  keep  somehow  room 
for  some  form  of  these  goods. 

To  turn  first  to  immortality.  Its  source  and  matrix 
is  less  the  love  of  life  than  the  fear  of  death — that  fear 
which  Lucretius,  dour  poet  of  disillusion,  so  nobly  de- 
plored. That  he  had  ever  himself  been  possessed  of  it 
is  not  clear,  but  it  is  perfectly  clear  that  his  altogether 
sound  arguments  against  it  have  not  abolished  its  opera- 
tion, nor  its  effect  upon  human  character,  society,  and 
imagination.  Fear  which  made  the  gods,  made  also  the 
immortality  of  man,  the  denial  of  death.  What  the 
fear's  unmistakable  traits  may  be  has  never  been  articu- 


VALUE  AND  EXISTENCE 


42d 


lately  said,  perhaps  never  can  be  said.  Most  of  us 
never  may  undergo  the  fear  of  death ;  we  undergo  com- 
fort and  discomfort,  joy  and  sorrow,  intoxication  and 
reaction,  love  and  disgust;  we  aim  to  preserve  the  one 
and  to  abolish  the  other,  but  we  do  not  knowingly  un- 
dergo the  fear  of  death.  Indeed,  it  is  logically  impossi- 
ble that  we  should,  since  to  do  so  would  be  to  acquire 
an  experience  of  death  such  that  we  should  be  conscious 
of  being  unconscious,  sensible  of  being  insensible,  aware 
of  being  unaware.  We  should  be  required  to  be  and 
not  to  be  at  the  same  instant,  in  view  of  which  Lucre- 
tius both  logically  and  wisely  advises  us  to  remember 
that  when  death  is,  we  are  not ;  and  when  we  are,  death 
is  not. 

Experience  and  feeling  are,  however,  neither  logical 
nor  wise,  and  to  these  death  is  far  from  the  mere  non- 
being  which  the  poet  would  have  us  think  it.  To  these 
it  has  a  positive  reality  which  makes  the  fear  of  it  a 
genuine  cause  of  conduct  in  individuals  and  in  groups, 
with  a  basis  in  knowledge  such  as  is  realized  in  the  dimin- 
ishing of  consciousness  under  anaesthetic,  in  dreams  of 
certain  types,  and  most  generally  in  the  nascent  imi- 
tation of  the  rigor  mortis  which  makes  looking  upon 
the  dead  such  a  horror  to  most  of  us.  Even  then,  how- 
ever, something  is  lacking  toward  the  complete  realiza- 
tion of  death,  and  children  and  primitive  peoples  never 
realize  it  at  all.  Its  full  meaning  comes  out  as  an  un- 
satisfied hunger  in  the  living  rather  than  as  a  condition 
of  the  dead,  who,  alive,  would  have  satisfied  this  hun- 
ger. And  the  realization  of  this  meaning  requires  so- 
phistication, requires  a  lengthy  corporate  memory  and 


ii 


i 


450 


CREATIVE   INTELLIGENCE 


the  disillusions  which  civilization  engenders.  Primitive 
peoples  ask  for  no  proof  of  immortality  because  they 
have  no  notion  of  mortality;  civilized  thinking  has 
largely  concerned  itself  about  the  proof  of  immortality 
because  its  assurance  of  life  has  been  shaken  by  the 
realization  of  death  through  the  gnawing  of  desire  which 
only  the  dead  could  still.  The  proof  which  in  the  his- 
tory of  thought  is  offered  again  and  again,  be  it  noted, 
is  not  of  the  reality  of  life,  but  of  the  unreality  and 
inefficacy  of  death.  Immortality  is  like  eternity,  a  nega- 
tive term;  it  is  twmortality.  The  experienced  fact  is 
mortality ;  and  the  fear  of  it  is  only  an  inversion  of  the 
desire  which  it  frustrates,  just  as  frustrated  love  be- 
comes hatred.  The  doctrine  of  immortality,  hence, 
springs  from  the  fear  of  death,  not  from  the  love  of  life, 
and  immortality  is  a  value-form,  not  an  existence.  Now, 
although  fear  of  death  and  love  of  life  are  in  constant 
play  in  character  and  conduct,  neither  constitutes  the 
original,  innocent  urge  of  life  within  us.  "  Will  to 
live,"  "  will  to  power,"  "  struggle  for  existence,"  and 
other  Germanic  hypostases  of  experienced  events  which 
the  great  civil  war  in  Europe  is  just  now  giving  such 
an  airing,  hardly  deserve,  as  natural  data,  the  high 
metaphysical  status  that  Schopenhauer,  Nietzsche,  and 
company  have  given  them.  They  follow  in  fact  upon  a 
more  primary  type  of  living,  acting  form,  a  type  to 
which  the  "  pathetic  fallacy  "  or  any  other  manner  of 
psychologizing  may  not  apply.  The  most  that  can 
be  said  about  this  type  is  that  its  earlier  stages 
are  related  to  its  later  ones  as  potential  is  to  kinetic 
energy.    If,  since  we  are  discussing  a  metaphysical  issue^ 


i^> 


VALUE  AND  EXISTENCE 


431 


we  must  mythologize,  we  might  call  it  the  "  will  to  self- 
expression."  Had  this  "  will "  chanced  to  happen  in 
a  world  which  was  made  for  it,  or  had  it  itself  been  the 
substance  of  the  world,  "  struggle  for  existence,"  "  will 
to  live,"  and  "  will  to  power,"  never  could  have  super- 
vened. All  three  of  these  expressions  designate  data 
which  require  an  opposite,  a  counter-will,  to  give  them 
meaning.  There  can  be  a  struggle  for  existence  only  when 
there  are  obstacles  thereto,  a  will  to  live  only  when 
there  are  obstructions  to  life,  a  will  to  power  only 
when  there  is  a  resistance  against  which  power  may  be 
exercised.  Expression  alone  is  self-implying  and  self- 
sufficient,  and  in  an  altogether  favorable  environment 
we  might  have  realized  our  instincts,  impulses,  interests, 
appetites  and  desires,  expressed  and  actualized  our 
potentialities,  and  when  our  day  is  done,  have  ceased, 
as  unconcerned  about  going  on  as  about  start- 
ing. 

Metchnikoff  speaks  somewhere  of  an  instinct  toward 
death  and  the  euphoria  which  accompanies  its  realiza- 
tion. He  cites,  I  think,  no  more  than  two  or  three  cases. 
To  most  of  us  the  mere  notion  of  the  existence  and 
operation  of  such  an  instinct  seems  fanciful  and  un- 
canny. Yet  from  the  standpoint  of  biology  nothing 
should  be  more  natural.  Each  living  thing  has  its  span, 
which  consists  of  a  cycle  from  birth  through  matura- 
tion and  senescence  to  dissolution,  and  the  latter  half 
of  the  process  is  as  "  fateful "  and  "  inevitable  "  as  the 
former!  Dying  is  itself  the  inexpugnable  conclusion 
of  that  setting  free  of  organic  potentialities  which  we 
call  life,  and  if  dying  seems  horrid  and  unnatural,  it 


iii 


432 


CREATIVE   INTELLIGENCE 


seems  so  because  for  most  of  us  death  is  violent,  because 
its  occasion  is  a  shock  from  without,  not  the  realiza- 
tion of  a  tendency  from  within.  In  a  completely  favor- 
able environment  we  should  not  struggle  to  exist,  we 
should  simply  exist;  we  should  not  will  to  live,  we 
should  simply  live,  i.e.,  we  should  actualize  our  poten- 
tialities and  die. 

But,  once  more  alas,  our  environment  is  not  com- 
pletely favorable,  and  there's  the  rub.  That  disorderly 
constellation  of  instincts  and  appetites  and  interests 
which  constitutes  the  personahty  of  the  best  of  us  does 
not  work  itself  out  evenly,   i^  the  most  favorable,  our 

f  self-realizations  are  lopsided  and  distorted.  For  every 
capacity  of  ours  in  full  play,  there  are  a  score  at  least 
mutilated,  sometimes  extirpated,  always  repressed.  They 

y  never  attain  the  free  fullness  of  expression  which  is 
consciousness,  or  when  they  do,  they  find  themselves 
confronted  with  an  opponent  which  neutralizes  their 
maturation  at  every  point.  Hence,  as  I  have  already 
indicated,  they  remain  in,  or  revert  to,  the  subterranean 
regions  of  our  lives,  and  govern  the  making  of  our 
biographies  from  their  seats  below.  What  they  fail 
to  attain  in  fact  they  succeed  in  generating  in  imagina- 
tion to  compensate  for  the  failure;  they  realize  them- 
selves vicariously.  The  doctrine  of  immortality  is  the 
generic  form  of  such  vicarious  self-realization,  as  fre- 
quently by  means  of  dead  friends  and  relatives  to  whose 
absolute  non-being  the  mind  will  not  assent,  as  by 
means  of  the  everlasting  heaven  in  which  the  mind  may 
forever  disport  itself  amid  those  delights  it  had  to 
forego  on  earth.     Much  of  the  underlying  motive  of 


VALUE  AND  EXISTENCE 


433 


the  doctrine  is  a  sehnsucht  and  nostalgia  after  the 
absent  dead;  little  a  concern  for  the  continuity  of  the 
visible  living.  And  often  this  passion  is  so  intense 
that  system  after  system  in  the  philosophic  tradition 
is  constructed  to  satisfy  it,  and  even  the  most  disillu- 
sioned of  systems — for  example,  Spinoza's — ^will  pre- 
serve its  form  if  not  its  substance. 

That  the  "  freedom  of  the  will "  shall  be  a  particu- 
larized compensatory  desiderate  like  the  immortality 
of  the  soul,  the  unity,  the  spirituality,  and  the  eternity 
of  the  world  is  a  perversion  worked  upon  this  ideal 
by  the  historic  accident  we  call  Christianity.  The  as- 
sumptions of  that  theory  concerning  the  nature  of  the 
universe  and  the  destiny  of  man,  being  through  and 
through  compensatory,  changed  freedom  from  the  possi- 
ble fact  and  actual  hope  of  Hellenic  systems  into  the 
"  problem "  of  the  Christian  ones.  The  consequent 
controversy  over  "  free-will,"  the  casuistic  entangle- 
ment of  this  ideal  with  the  notion  of  responsibility,  its 
theological  development  in  the  problem  of  the  relation 
of  an  omnipotent  God  to  a  recalcitrant  creature,  have 
completely  obscured  its  primal  significance.  For  the 
ancients,  the  free  man  and  the  "  wise  man  "  were  identi- 
cal, and  the  wise  man  was  one  who  all  in  all  had  so 
mastered  the  secrets  of  the  universe  that  there  was  no 
desire  of  his  that  was  not  actually  realized,  no  wish 
the  satisfaction  of  which  was  obstructed.  His  way  in 
the  world  was  a  way  without  let  or  hindrance.  Now 
freedom  and  wisdom  in  this  sense  is  never  a  fact  and 
ever  a  value.  Its  attainment  ensues  upon  created  dis- 
tinctions  between   appearance   and   reality,   upon   the 


434 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


postulation  of  the  metaphysical  existence  of  the  value- 
forms  of  the  unity,  spirituality,  and  the  eternity  of  the 
world,  in  the  realization  of  which  the  wise  man  founded 
his  wisdom  and  gained  his  freedom.     Freedom,  then, 
is  an  ideal  that  could  have  arisen  only  in  the  face  of 
obstruction  to  action  directed  toward  the  fulfilling  and 
satisfying  of  interests.    It  is  the  assurance  of  the  smooth 
and  uninterrupted  flow  of  behavior;  the  flow  of  desire 
into  fulfilment,  of  thought  into  deed,  of  act  into  fact. 
It  is  perhaps  the  most  pervasive  and  fundamental  of 
all  desiderates,  and  in  a  definite  way  the  others  may  be 
said  to  derive  from  it  and  to  realize  it.     For  the  soul's 
immortality,   the   world's   unity    and   spirituality   and 
eternity,  are  but  conditions  which  facilitate  and  assure 
the  flow  of  life  without  obstruction.     They   define  a 
world  in  which  danger,  evil,  and  frustration  are  non- 
existent; they  so  reconstitute  our  actual  environment 
that  the  obstructions  it  off^ers  to  the  course  of  life  are 
abolished.     They  make  the  world  "  rational,"  and  in 
the  great  philosophic  tradition  the  freedom  of  man  is 
held  to  be  a  function  of  the  rationality  of  the  world. 
Thus,  even  deterministic  solutions  of  the  "  problem  of 
freedom  "  are  at  bottom  no  more  than  the  rationaliza- 
tion of  natural  existence  by  the  dialectical  removal  of 
obstructions  to  human  existence.    Once  more,  Spinoza's 
solution  is  typical,  and  its  form  is  that  of  all  idealisms 
as  well.     It  ensues  by  way  of  identification  of  the  ob- 
struction's interest  with  those  of  the  obstructee:  the 
world  becomes  ego  or  the  ego  the  world,  with  nothing 
outside  to  hinder  or  to  interfere.     In  the  absolute,  ex- 
istence is  declared  to  be  value  de  facto;  in  fact,  de  jure. 


VALUE  AND  EXISTENCE 


435 


And  by  virtue  of  this  compensating  reciprocity  the 
course  of  life  runs  free. 

Is  any  proof  necessary  that  these  value-forms  are 
not  the  contents  of  the  daily  life  ?  If  there  be,  why  this 
unvarying  succession  of  attempts  to  prove  that  they 
are  the  contents  of  daily  life  that  goes  by  the  name 
of  history  of  philosophy?  In  fact,  experience  as  it 
comes  from  moment  to  moment  is  not  one,  harmonious 
and  orderly,  but  multifold,  discordant,  and  chaotic.  Its 
stuffs  is  not  spirit,  but  stones  and  railway  wrecks  and 
volcanoes  and  Mexico  and  submarines,  and  trenches, 
and  frightfulness,  and  Germany,  and  disease,  and 
waters,  and  trees,  and  stars,  and  mud.  It  is  not  eternal, 
but  changes  from  instant  to  instant  and  from  season 
to  season.  Actually,  men  do  not  live  forever;  death 
is  a  fact,  and  immortality  is  literally  as  well  as  in 
philosophic  discourse  not  so  much  an  aspiration  for  the 
continuity  of  life  as  an  aspiration  for  the  elimination 
of  death,  purely  immortality.  Actually  the  will  is  not 
free,  each  interest  encounters  obstruction,  no  interest 
is  completely  satisfied,  all  are  ultimately  cut  off  by 
death. 

Such  are  the  general  features  of  all  human  experi- 
ence, by  age  unwithered,  and  with  infinite  variety  for- 
ever unstaled.  The  traditional  philosophic  treatment 
of  them  is  to  deny  their  reality,  and  to  call  them  ap- 
pearance, and  to  satisfy  the  generic  human  interest 
which  they  oppose  and  repress  by  means  of  the  histori- 
cal reconstruction  in  imaginative  dialectic  of  a  world 
constituted  by  these  most  generalized  value-forms  and 
then  to  eulogize  the   reconstruction  with  the  epithet 


i 


486 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


**  reality."  When,  in  the  course  of  human  events,  such 
reconstruction  becomes  limited  to  the  biography  of 
particular  individuals,  is  an  expression  of  their  con- 
crete and  unique  interest,  is  lived  and  acted  on,  it  is 
called  paranoia.  The  difference  is  not  one  of  kind,  but 
of  concreteness,  application,  and  individuality.  Such 
a  philosophy  applied  universally  in  the  daily  life  is  a 
madness,  like  Christian  Science:  kept  in  its  proper 
sphere,  it  is  a  fine  art,  the  finest  and  most  human  of 
the  arts,  a  reconstruction  in  discourse  of  the  whole 
universe,  in  the  image  of  the  free  human  spirit.  Phi- 
losophy has  been  reasonable  because  it  is  so  unpersonal, 
abstract,  and  general,  like  music;  because,  in  spite  of 
its  labels,  its  reconstructions  remain  pure  desiderates 
and  value-forms,  never  to  be  confused  with  and  sub- 
stituted for  existence.  But  philosophers  even  to  this 
day  often  have  the  delusion  that  the  substitutions  are 
actually  made.* 

IV 

It  is  the  purity  of  the  value-forms  imagined  in  phi- 
losophy that  makes  philosophy  "normative."  The 
arts,  which  it  judges,  have  an  identical  origin  and  an 
indistinguishable  intent,  but  they  are  properly  its  sub- 
ordinates because  they  have  not  its  purity.  TJjejt,  too, 
aim  at  remodeling  discordant  nature  into  harmony  with 
human  nature.  They,  too,  are  dominated  by  value- 
forms  which  shall  satisfy  as  nearly  as  possible  all  in- 

•Cf.  Hocking,  The  Meaning  of  Ood  in  Human  Experience, 
for  the  most  recent  of  these  somnambulisms.  But  any  idealistic 
system  will  do,  from  Plato  to  Bradley. 


VALUE  AND  EXISTENCE 


4Sr 


terests,  shall  liberate  and  fulfil  all  repressions,  and 
shall  supply  to  our  lives  that  unity,  eternity,  spirit- 
uality, and  freedom  which  are  the  exfoliations  of  our 
central  desire — the  desire  to  live.  Bgit  where  philosophy 
has  merely  negated  the  concrete  stuff  of  experience  and 
defined  its  reality  in  terms  of  desire  alone,  the  arts 
acknowledge  the  reality  of  immediate  experience,  accept 
it  as  it  comes,  eliminating,  adding,  molding,  until  the 
values  desiderated  become  existent  in  the  concrete  im- 
mediacies of  experience  as  such.  Art  does  not  substi-  \ 
tute  values  for  existence  by  changing  their  roles  and 
calling  one  appearance  and  the  other  reality:  art  con- 
verts values  into  existences,  it  realizes  values,  injecting  \ 
them  into  nature  as  far  as  may  be.  It  creates  truth 
and  beauty  and  goodness.  But  it  does  not  claim  for 
its  results  greater  reality  than  nature's.  It  claims  for 
its  results  greater  immediate  harmony  with  human  in- 
terests than  nature.  The  propitious  reality  of  the  phi- 
losopher is  the  unseen:  the  harmonious  reality  of  the 
artist  must  be  sensible.  Philosophy  says  that  apparent 
actual  evil  is  merely  apparent:  art  compels  potential 
apparent  good  actually  to  appear.  Philosophy  realizes 
fundamental  values  transcendentally  beyond  experi- 
ence: art  realizes  them  within  experience.  Thus,  men 
cherish  no  illusions  concerning  the  contents  of  a  novel, 
a  picture,  a  play,  a  musical  composition.  They  are 
taken  for  what  they  are,  and  are  enjoyed  for  what 
they  are.  The  shopgirl,  organizing  her  life  on  the 
basis  of  eight  dollars  a  week,  wears  flimsy  for  broadcloth 
and  the  tail  feather  of  a  rooster  for  an  ostrich  plume. 
She  is  as  capable  of  wearing  and  enjoying  broadcloth 


Ui 


488 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


and  ostrich  plume  as  My  Lady,  whose  income  is  eight 
dollars  a  minute.  But  she  has  not  them,  and  in  all 
likelihood,  without  a  social  revolution  she  never  will 
have  them.  Li  the  novels  of  Mr.  Robert  Chambers, 
however,  or  of  Miss  Jean  Libbey,  which  she  religiously 
reads  in  the  street-car  on  her  way  to  the  shop;  in  the 
motion  picture  theater  which  she  visits  for  ten  cents 
after  her  supper  of  corned  beef,  cabbage,  and  cream 
puffs,  she  comes  into  possession  of  them  forthwith, 
vicariously,  and  of  all  My  Lady's  proper  perquisites — 
the  Prince  Charming,  the  motor-car,  the  Chinese  pug, 
the  flowers,  and  the  costly  bonbons.  For  the  time  being 
her  life  is  liberated,  new  avenues  of  experience  are  ac- 
tually opened  to  her,  all  sorts  of  unsatisfied  desires  are 
satisfied,  all  sorts  of  potentialities  realized.  All  that  she 
might  have  been  and  is  not,  she  becomes  through  art, 
here  and  now,  and  continuously  with  the  drab  workaday 
life  which  is  her  lot,  and  she  becomes  this  without  any 
compensatory  derealization  of  that  life,  without  any 
transcendentalism,  without  any  loss  of  grip  on  the  neces- 
sities of  her  experience:  strengthened,  on  the  contrary, 
and  emboldened,  to  meet  them  as  they  are. 

I  might  multiply  examples:  for  every  object  of  fine 
art  has  the  same  intention,  and  if  adequate,  accomplishes 
the  same  end — from  the  sculptures  of  Phidias  and  the 
dramas  of  Euripides,  to  the  sky-scrapers  of  Sullivan 
and  the  dances  of  Pavlowa.  But  there  is  need  only  to 
consider  the  multitude  of  abstract  descriptions  of  the 
aesthetic  encounter.  The  artist's  business  is  to  create 
the  other  object  in  the  encounter,  and  this  object,  in 
Miss  Puffer's  words,  which  are  completely  representa- 


VALUE  AND  EXISTENCE 


439 


tive  and  typical,  is  such  that  "  the  organism  is  in  a 
condition  of  repose  and  of  the  highest  possible  tone, 
functional  efficiency,  enhanced  life.  The  personality  is 
brought  into  a  state  of  unity  and  self-completeness." 
The  object,  when  apprehended,  awakens  the  active  func- 
tioning of  the  whole  organism  directly  and  harmoniously 
with  itself,  cuts  it  off  from  the  surrounding  world,  shuts 
that  world  out  for  the  time  being,  and  forms  a  complete, 
harmonious,  and  self-sufficient  system,  peculiar  and 
unique  in  the  fact  that  there  is  no  passing  from  this 
deed  into  further  adaptation  with  the  object.  Struggle 
and  aliency  are  at  end,  and  whatever  activity  now  goes 
on  feels  self-conserving,  spontaneous,  free.  The  need 
of  readjustment  has  disappeared,  and  with  it  the  feel- 
ing of  strain,  obstruction,  and  resistance,  which  is  its 
sign.  There  is  nothing  but  the  object,  and  that  is 
possessed  completely,  satisfying,  and  as  if  forever. 
Art,  in  a  word,  supplies  an  environment  from  which  \ 
strife,  foreignness,  obstruction,  and  death  are  elimi-  | 
nated.  It  actualizes  unity,  spirituality,  and  eternity  I 
in  the  environment ;  it  frees  and  enhances  the  life  of  the 
self.  To  the  environment  which  art  successfully  creates, 
the  mind  finds  itself  completely  and  harmoniousljr 
adapted  by  the  initial  act  of  perception. 

In  the  world  of  art,  value  and  existence  are  one. 


If  art  may  be  said  to  create  values,  religion  has  been 
said  to  conserve  them.  But  the  values  conserved  are 
not  those  created:  they  are  the  values  postulated  by 
philosophy   as   metaphysical   reality.     Whereas,  how- 


ik 


440 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


ever,  philosophy  substitutes  these  values  for  the  world 
of  experience,  religion  makes  them  continuous  with  the 
world  of  experience.  For  religion  value  and  existence 
are  on  the  same  level,  but  value  is  more  potent  and 
environs  existence,  directing  it  for  its  own  ends.  The 
unique  content  of  religion,  hence,  is  a  specific  imagina- 
tive extension  of  the  environment  with  value-forms :  the 
visible  world  is  extended  at  either  end  by  heaven  and 
hell ;  the  world  of  minds,  by  God,  Satan,  angels,  demons, 
saints,  and  so  on.  Qa4^  where  philosophy  imaginatively 
abolishes  existence  in  behalf  of  value,  where  art  realizes 
value  in  existence,  religion  tends  to  control  and  to  es- 
cape the  environment  which  exists  by  means  of  the 
environment  which  is  postulated.  The  aim  of  religion 
is  salvation  from  sin.  Salvation  is  the  escape  from 
experience  to  heaven  and  the  bosom  of  God;  while  hell 
is  the  compensatory  readjustment  of  inner  quality  to 
outer  condition  for  the  alien  and  the  enemy,  without 
the  knowledge  of  whose  existence  life  in  heaven  could 
not  be  complete. 

In  religion,  hence,  the  conversion  of  the  repressed 
array  of  interests  into  ideal  value-forms  is  less  radical 
and  abstract  than  in  philosophy,  and  less  checked  by 
fusion  with  existence  than  in  art.  Religion  is,  therefore, 
at  one  and  the  same  time  more  carnal  and  less  reason- 
able than  philosophy  and  art.  Its  history  and  pro- 
tagonists exhibit  a  closer  kinship  to  what  is  called  in- 
sanity * — that  being,  in  essence,  the  substitution  in 
actual  life  of  the  creatures  of  the  imagination  which 
satisfy  repressed  needs  for  those  of  reality  which  re- 
•Cf.  James,  The  Varieties  of  Religious  Experience, 


VALUE  AND  EXISTENCE  441 

press  them.  It  is  a  somnambulism  which  intensifies 
rather  than  abolishes  the  contrast  between  what  is  de- 
sired and  what  must  be  accepted.  It  off'ers  itself  ulti- 
mately rather  as  a  refuge  from  reality  than  a  control 
of  it,  and  its  development  as  an  institution  has  turned 
on  the  creation  and  use  of  devices  to  make  this  escape 
feasible.  For  religion,  therefore,  the  perception  that 
the  actual  world,  whatever  its  history,  is  now  not 
adapted  to  human  nature,  is  the  true  point  of  de- 
parture. Thus  religion  takes  more  account  of  experi- 
ence than  compensatory  philosophy;  it  does  not  de- 
realize  existent  evil.  The  outer  conflict  between  human 
nature  and  nature,  primitively  articulated  in  conscious- 
ness and  conduct  by  the  distress  engendered  through 
the  fact  that  the  food  supply  depends  upon  the  march 
of  the  seasons,*  becomes  later  assimilated  to  the  inner 
conflict  between  opposing  interests,  wishes,  and  desires. 
Finally,  the  whole  so  constituted  gets  expressed  in  the 
idea  of  sin.  That  idea  makes  outward  prosperity  de- 
pendent upon  inward  purity^  although  it  often  transfers 
the  locus  of  the  prosperity  to  another  world.  Through 
its  operation  fortune  becomes  a  function  of  conscience 
and  the  one  desire  of  religious  thinking  and  religious 
practice  becomes  to  bring  the  two  to  a  happy  out- 
come, to  abolish  the  conflicts.  This  desiderated  aboli- 
tion is  salvation.  It  is  expressed  in  the  ideas  of  a  fall, 
or  a  separation  from  heaven  and  reunion  therewith. 
The  machinery  of  this  reunion  of  the  divided,  the  re- 
conversion of  the  diff^erentiated  into  the  same,  con- 
sists of  the  furniture  of  religious  symbols  and  cere^ 
*Cf.  Jane  Harrison,  Ancient  Art  and  EituaL 


1 


442 


CREATIVE   INTELLIGENCE 


I 


monials — myths,  baptisms,  sacraments,  prayers,  "and 
sacrifices :  and  all  these  are  at  the  same  time  instruments 
and  expressions  of  desires.  God  is  literally  "  the  con- 
servation of  values."  *  "  God's  life  in  eternity,"  writes 
Aristotle,  who  here  dominates  the  earlier  tradition,  "  is 
that  which  we  enjoy  in  our  best  moments,  but  are  un- 
able to  possess  permanently:  its  very  being  is  delight. 
And  as  actual  being  is  delight,  so  the  various  functions 
of  waking,  perceiving,  thinking,  are  to  us  the  pleasant- 
est  parts  of  our  life.  Perfect  and  absolute  thought  is 
just  this  absolute  vision  of  perfection."! 

Even  the  least  somnambulistic  of  the  transcendental 
philosophies  has  repeated,  not  improved  upon  Aristotle. 
"The  highest  conceptions  that  I  get  from  experience 
of  what  goodness  and  beauty  are,"  Royce  declares,  "  the 
noblest  life  that  I  can  imagine,  the  completest  blessed- 
ness that  I  can  think,  all  these  are  but  faint  sugges- 
tions of  a  truth  that  is  infinitely  realized  in  the  Divine, 
that  knows  all  truth.  Whatever  perfection  there  is  sug- 
gested in  these  things,  that  he  must  fully  know  and 
experience." 

But  this  aesthetic  excellence,  this  maximum  of  ideality 
is  in  and  by  itself  inadequate.  God,  to  be  God,  must 
work.  He  is  first  of  all  the  invisible  socius,  the  ever- 
living  witness,  in  whose  eyes  the  disharmonies  and  in- 
justices of  this  life  are  enregistered,  and  who  in  the 
life  everlasting  redresses  the  balances  and  adjusts  the 
account.     Even  his  grace  is  not  unconditional;  it  re- 

•Cf.  my  paper,  "Is  Belief  Essential  in  Religion?",  Interna^ 
tional  Journal  of  Ethics,  October,  1910. 
t  •*  Metaphysics,"  Book  Lambda. 


VALUE  AND  EXISTENCE 


443 


quires  a  return,  in  deed  or  faith;  a  payment  by  which 
the  fact  of  his  salvation  is  made  visible.    But  this  pay- 
ment is  made  identical  by  the  great  religions  of  disillu- 
sion with  nothing  other  than  the  concrete  condition 
from  which  the  faithful  are  to  be  saved.     If  the  self 
is  not  impoverished,  unkempt,  and  hungry,  in  fact,  it 
is  made  so.     Cleanliness  may  be  next  to  godliness,  but 
self -defilement  is  godliness ;  sainthood,  if  we  are  to  trust 
the  lives  of  saints,  whether  in  Asia  or  in  Europe,  is  co- 
incident with  insanitation ;  saintly  virtues  are  depressed 
virtues, — ^humility,  hope,  meekness,  pity;  and  such  con- 
ditions of  life  which  define  the  holy  ones  are  unwhole- 
some— poverty,  asceticism,  squalor,  filth.     Hence,  by 
an  ironic  inversion,  religions  of  disillusion,  being  other- 
worldly, identify  escape  from  an  actual  unpropitious 
environment  with  submergence  in  it;  that  being  the 
visible  and  indispensable  sign  of  an  operative  grace.    So 
the  beatitudes:  the  blessed  are  the  poor,  the  mourners, 
the  meek.     Beginning  as  a  correction  of  the  evils  of 
existence,  religion  ends  by  offering  an  infallible  avenue 
of  escape  from  them  through  postulating  a  desiderated 
type  of  existence  which  operates  to  gather  the  spirit  to 
itself.     For  this  reason  the  value-forms  of  the  spirit- 
uality or  spiritual  control  of  the  universe  and  of  the 
immortality  of  the  soul  have  been  very  largely  the  prac- 
tical concern   of   religion   alone,   since   these   are   the 
instruments  indispensable  to  the  attainment  of  salva- 
tion.    In  so  far  forth  religion  has  been  an  art  and  its 
institutional  association  with  the  arts  has  been  made 
one  of  its  conspicuous  justifications.     So  far,  however, 
as  it  has  declared  values  to  be  operative  without  making 


,k 


444 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


VALUE  AND  EXISTENCE 


445 


them  actually  existent  it  has  been  only  a  black  art, 
a  magic.  It  has  ignored  the  actual  causes  in  the  nature 
and  history  of  things,  and  has  substituted  for  them 
non-existent  desirable  causes,  ultimately  reducible  to  a 
single,  eternal,  beneficent  spirit,  omnipotent  and  free. 
To  convert  these  into  existence,  an  operation  which  is 
the  obvious  intent  of  much  contemporary  thinking  in 
religion,*  it  must,  however,  give  up  the  assumption  that 
they  already  exist  qua  spirit.  But  when  religion  gives 
up  this  assumption,  religion  gives  up  the  ghost. 

What  it  demands  of  the  ghost,  and  of  all  hypostatized 
or  anthropomorphized  ultimate  value-forms,  is  that  they 
shall  work,  and  its  life  as  an  institution  depends 
upon  making  them  work.  Christian  Science  becomes 
a  refuge  from  the  failure  of  science,  magic  from  mechan- 
ism, and  by  means  of  them  and  their  kind,  blissful  im- 
mortality, complete  self-fulfilment  is  to  be  attained — 
after  death.  There  is  a  "  beautiful  land  of  somewhere," 
a  happy  life  beyond,  but  it  is  beyond  life.  In  fact, 
although  religion  confuses  value  and  existence,  it  local- 
izes the  great  value-forms  outside  of  existence.  Its 
history  has  been  an  epic  of  the  retreat  and  decimation 

*This  is  accomplished  usually  by  ignoring  the  differentia  of 
the  term  of  religion,  and  using  it  simply  as  an  adjective  of  eulogy, 
as  in  the  common  practice  the  term  "Christian"  is  made  co- 
extensive with  the  denotation  of  "good."  or  "social."  For  ex- 
ample, a  "  Christian  gentleman  "  can  differ  in  no  discernible  way 
from  a  gentleman  not  so  qualified  save  by  believing  in  certain 
theological  propositions.  But  in  usage,  the  adjective  is  simply 
tautologous.  Compare  R.  B.  Perry,  The  Moral  Economy;  E.  S. 
Ames,  The  Psychology  of  Religious  Experience;  J.  H.  Leuba, 
A  Psychological  Study  of  Religion;  H,  M.  Ka^lepi  I«  Belief 
Essential  in  Religionf 


of  the  gods  from  the  world,  a  movement  from  animism 
and  pluralism  to  transcendentalism  and  monism;  and 
concomitantly,  of  an  elaboration  and  extension  of  in- 
stitutional devices  by  which  the  saving  value-forms  are 
tb  be  made  and  kept  operative  in  the  world. 

VI 

Let  us  consider  this  history  a  little. 

Consciousness  of  feeling,  psychologists  are  agreed,  is 
prior  to  consciousness  of  the  objects  of  feeling.     The 
will's  inward  strain,  intense  throbs  of  sensation,  pangs 
and    pulses     of    pleasure     and     pain    make     up    the 
bulk    of    the    undifferentiated    primal    sum    of    senti- 
ence.     The     soul     is     aware     of    herself    before     she 
is    aware    of    her    world.      A    childish    or    primeval 
mind,    face    to    face    with     an    environment    actual, 
dreamt,    or    remembered,    does    not    distinguish    from 
its    privacy    the    objective    or    the    common.      All    is 
shot  through  with  the  pathos  and  triumph  which  come 
unaccountably  as  desired  good  or  evaded  evil;  all  has 
the  same  tensions  and  effects  ends  in  the  same  manner 
as  the  laboring,  straining,  volitional  life  within.     These 
feelings,   residuary   qualities,   the   last   floating,   unat- 
tached  sediment  of  a  world  organized  by  association 
and  classified  by  activity,  these  subtlest  of  all  its  beings, 
finally  termed  mind  and  self,  at  first  suffuse  and  domi- 
nate the  whole.     Even  when  objects  are  distinguished 
and  their  places  determined  these  are  not  absent;  and 
the  so-called  pre-animistic  faiths  are  not  the  less  suf- 
fused with  spirit  because  the  spiritual  has  not  yet  re- 
ceived a  local  habitation  and  name.     They  differ  from 


i 


446 


CREATIVE   INTELLIGENCE 


animism  in  this  only,  not  in  that  their  objects  are  char- 
acterized by  lack  of  animation  and  vital  tonality.  And 
this  is  necessary.  For  religion  must  be  anthropopathic 
before  it  becomes  anthropomorphic;  since  feeling,  elo- 
quent of  good  and  evil,  is  the  first  and  deepest  essence 
of  consciousness,  and  only  by  its  wandering  from  home 
are  forms  distinguished  and  man's  nature  separated 
from  that  of  things  and  beasts. 

When  practice  has  coordinated  activity,  and  reflec- 
tion distinguished  places,  animism  proper  arises.  First 
the  environment  is  felt  as  the  soul's  kindred;  then  its 
operations  are  fancied  in  terms  dramatic  and  personal. 
The  world  becomes  almost  instinctively  defined  as  a 
hegemony  of  spirits  similar  to  man,  with  powers  and 
passions  like  his,  and  directed  for  his  destruction  or  con- 
servation, but  chiefly  for  their  own  glory  and  self -main- 
tenance. The  vast  "  pathetic  fallacy  "  makes  religion 
of  the  whole  of  life.  It  is  at  this  point  indistinguisha- 
ble from  science  or  ethics.  It  is,  in  fact,  the  pregnant 
matrix  of  all  subsequent  discourse  about  the  uni- 
verse. Its  character  is  such  that  it  becomes  the  deter- 
minating factor  of  human  adaptations  to  the  con- 
ditions imposed  by  the  environment,  by  envisaging  the 
enduring  and  efllcacious  elements  among  these  conditions 
as  persons.  The  satisfaction  of  felt  needs  is  rendered 
thereby  inevitably  social;  and  in  a  like  manner  fear 
of  their  frustration  cannot  be  unsocial.  Life  is  con- 
ceived and  acted  out  as  a  miraculous  traffic  with  the 
universe;  and  the  universe  as  a  band  of  spirits  who 
monopolize  the  good  and  make  free  gifts  of  evil,  who 
can  be  feared,  threatened,  worshiped,  scolded,  wheedled, 


VALUE  AND  EXISTENCE 


447 


coaxed,  bribed,  deceived,  enslaved,  held  in  awe,  and 
above  all,  used  for  the  the  prosecution  of  desiderated 
ends  and  the  fulfilment  of  instinctive  desires.  The  first 
recorded  cognized  order  is  a  moral  order  in  which  frag- 
mentary feelings,  instinctive  impulsions,  and  spontane- 
ous imaginings  are  hypostatized,  ideas  are  identified 
with  their  causes,  all  the  contents  of  the  immature,  sud- 
den, primitive,  blundering  consciousness  receive  a  vital 
figure  and  a  proper  name.  So  man  makes  himself  more 
at  home  in  the  world  without, — that  world  which  en- 
slaves the  spirit  so  fearfully  and  with  such  strangeness, 
and  which  just  as  miraculously  yields  such  ecstasy,  such 
power,  such  unaccountable  good !  In  this  immediate  sense 
the  soul  controls  the  world  by  becoming  symbolic  of  it ; 
it  is  the  world's  first  language.  It  is,  however,  an  in- 
articulate, blundering,  incoherent  thing  and  the  cues 
which  it  furnishes  to  the  nature  of  the  environment  are 
as  often  as  not  dangerous  and  misleading.  When  bows 
and  arrows,  crystals  and  caves,  clouds  and  waters,  dung 
and  dew,  mountains  and  trees,  beasts  and  visions,  are 
treated  as  chiefs  and  men  must  be  treated,  then  the 
moral  regimen  initiated,  taking  little  account  of  the 
barest  real  qualities  manifested  by  these  things,  and 
attributing  the  maximum  importance  to  the  characters 
postulated  and  foreign,  is  successful  neither  in  allaying 
evil  nor  in  extending  good.  Its  benefits  are  adventitious 
and  its  malfeasance  constant.  Food  buried  with  the 
dead  was  food  lost;  blood  smeared  upon  the  bow  to 
make  it  shoot  better  served  only  to  make  the  hands 
unskilful  by  impeding  their  activity.  Initiation,  cere- 
mony, sacrificial  ritual,  fasting,  and  isolation  involved 


448 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


VALUE  AND  EXISTENCE 


449 


privations  for  which  no  adequate  return  was  recovered, 
even  by  the  medicine-man  whose  absolute  and  ephemeral 
power  needed  only  the  betrayal  of  circumstances  for  its 
own  destruction,  taking  him  along  with  it,  oftener  than 
not,  to  disgrace  or  death. 

As  the  cumulus  of  experience  on  experience  grew 
greater,  chance  violations  of  tradition,  or  custom,  or 
ritual,  or  formula  achieving  for  the  violator  a  mastery 
or  stability  which  performance  and  obedience  failed  to 
achieve,  the  new  heresy  became  the  later  orthodoxy,  for 
in  religion,  as  in  all  other  matters  human,  nothing  suc- 
ceeds like  success.  An  impotent  god  has  no  divinity; 
a  disused  potency  means  a  dying  life  among  the  im- 
mortals as  on  the  earth.  And  as  the  gods  themselves 
seemed  often  to  give  their  worshipers  the  lie,  the  fu- 
tility of  the  personal  and  dramatic  definitions  of  the 
immediate  environment  became  slowly  recognized,  the 
recognition  varying  in  extent,  and  clearer  in  practice 
than  in  discourse. 

Accordingly  the  most  primitive  of  the  animisms  un- 
derwent a  necessary  modification.  The  plasticity  of 
objects  under  destructive  treatment,  the  impotence  of 
taboo  before  elementary  needs,  the  adequate  satisfac- 
tions which  violations  of  the  divine  law  brought, — these 
killed  many  gods  and  drove  others  from  their  homes 
in  the  hearts  of  things.  The  objects  so  purged  became 
matters  of  accurate  knowledge.  Where  animation  is 
denied  the  whole  environment,  wisdom  begins  to  distin- 
guish between  spirit-haunted  matter  and  the  purely 
material ;  knowledge  of  person  and  knowledge  of  things 
differentiate,  and  science,  the  impersonal  and  more  po- 


tent knowledge   of  the  environment,  properly  begins. 
Familiarity  lead^  to  control,  control  to  contempt,  and 
for  the  unreflective  mind,  personality  is  not,   as  for 
the  sophisticated,  an  attribute  of  the  contemptible.   The 
incalculable  appearance  of  thunder,  the  magic  greed  of 
fire,  the  malice,  the  spontaneity,  the  thresh  and  pulse 
as  of  life  which  seems  to  characterize  whatever  is  ca- 
pricious or  impenetrable  or  uncontrollable  are  too  much 
like  the  felt  throbs  of  consciousness  to  become  dehu- 
manized.    To  the  variable  alone,  therefore,  is  transcen^ 
dent  animation  attributed.     Not  the  seasonal  variation*     V 
of  the  sun's  heat,  but  the  joy  and  the  sorrow  of  which 
his  heat  is  the  occasion  made  him  divine.     When  the 
gods  appear,  to  take  tht  place  of  the  immanent  spirits 
immediately  present  in  things,  they  appear,  therefore, 
as  already  transcendent,  with  habitations  just  beyond 
the  well-known :  on  high  mountains,  in  the  skies,  in  dark 
forests,  in  caves,  in  all  regions  feared  or  unexplored. 
But  chiefly  the  gods  inhabit  those  spaces  whence  issue 
the  power  of  darkness  and  destruction,  particularly  the 
heaven,  a  word  whose  meaning  is  now,  as  it  was  primi- 
tively, identical  with  divinity.     The  savage  becomes  a 
pagan  by  giving  concrete  personality  to  the  dreadful 
unknown.     Thence  it  is  that  the  ancient  poet  assigns 
the  gods  a  lineage  of  fear ;  and  fear  may  truly  be  said 
to  have  made  the  gods,  in  so  far  as  the  gods  personify 
the  fear  which  made  them. 

The  moral  level  of  these  figments  alters  with  the  level 
of  their  habitation;  their  power  varies  with  their  re- 
moteness; Zeus  lives  in  the  highest  heaven  and  is  ar- 
biter of  the  destiny  of  both  gods  and  man.    To  him  and 


V 


450 


CREATIVE   INTELLIGENCE 


to  his  like  there  cannot  be  the  relation  of  equality  which 
is  sustained  between  men  and  spirits  of  the  lower  order. 
His  very  love  is  blasting;  interchange  of  commodities, 
good  for  good  and  evil  for  evil  is  not  possible  where 
he  is  concerned.  Gods  of  the  higher  order  he  exempli- 
fies, even  all  the  gods  of  Olympus,  of  the  Himalayas,  of 
Valhalla,  are  literally  beings  invoked  and  implored,  as 
well  as  dwellers  in  heaven.  To  them  man  pays  a  toll 
on  all  excellence  he  gains  or  finds ;  libations  and  burnt- 
offerings,  the  fat  and  the  first  fruits:  he  exists  by 
their  sufferance  and  serves  their  caprice.  He  is 
their  toy,  born  for  their  pleasure,  and  living  by  their 
need. 

But  just  because  men  conceive  themselves  to  be  play- 
things of  the  gods,  they  define  in  the  gods  the  ideals 
of  mankind.  For  the  divine  power  is  power  to  live 
forever,  and  the  sum  of  human  desire  is  just  the  desire 
to  maintain  its  humanity  in  freedom  and  happiness 
endlessly.  And  exactly  those  capacities  and  instru- 
ments of  self-maintenance, — ^all  that  is  beauty,  or  truth, 
or  goodness,  the  very  essence  of  value  in  any  of  its 
forms, — ^the  gods  are  conceived  to  possess  and  to  con- 
trol :  these  they  may  grant,  withhold,  destroy.  They  are 
as  eternal  as  their  habitations,  the  mountains;  as  ruth- 
less as  their  element,  the  sea;  as  omnipresent  as  the 
heavens,  their  home.  To  become  like  the  gods,  there- 
fore, the  masters  and  fathers  of  men,  is  to  remain 
eternally  and  absolutely  human:  so  that  who  is  most 
like  them  on  earth  takes  his  place  beside  them  in  heaven. 
Hercules  and  Elias  and  Krishna,  Caka-Muni  and  Ish- 
vara,  Jesus  and  Baha  UUah.     Nay,  they  are  the  very 


VALUE  AND  EXISTENCE  451 

gods  themselves,  manifest  as  men !    The  history  of  the    ^ 
gods  thus  presents  a  double  aspect :  it  is  first  a  char- 
acterization of  the  important  objects  and  processes  of 
nature   and   their  survival-values,— the   sun,   thunder,      i 
rain,  and  earthquakes;  dissolution,  rebirth,  and  love;      I 
and  again  it  is  the  narration  of  activities  native  and     ^' 
delightful  to  mankind.    Zeus  is  a  promiscuous  lover  as 
well  as  a  wielder  of  thunderbolts ;  Apollo  not  only  drives 
the  chariot  of  the  sun ;  he  plays  and  dances,  discourses 
melody  and  herds  sheep. 

But  while  the  portrait  of  the  heart's  desire  in  ficti- 
tious adventures  of  divinity  endears  the  gods  to  the 
spirit,  the  exploration  of  the  elements  in  the  environ- 
ment whose  natures  they  dramatically  express,  destroys 
their  force,  reduces  their  number,  and  drives  them  still 
further  into  the  unknown.    Olympus  is  surrendered  for 
the  planets  and  the  fixed  stars.     With  remoteness  of 
location  comes  transmutation  of  character.    The  forces 
of  the  environment  which  were  the  divinity  are  now 
conceived   as   instrumental  to  its  uses.     Its  power  is 
more  subtly  described ;  its  nature  becomes  a  more  purely 
ideal  expression  of  human  aspiration.    Physical  remote- 
ness and  metaphysical  ultimacy  are  akin.     God  among 
the  stars  is  better  than  God  on  Olympus.  If,  as  with  the 
Parsees,  the  unfavorable  character  of  the  environment 
is  expressed  in   another  and  equal  being,— the  devil, 
then  the  god  of  good  must,  in  the  symbolic  struggle,  be- 
come the  ultimate  victor  and  remain  the  more  potent 
director  of  man's  destiny.     In  religion,  therefore,  when 
the  mind  grows  at  all  by  experience,  monism  develops 
spontaneously.     For  the  character  of  the  god  becomes 


452 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


increasingly  more  relevant  to  hope  than  to  the  condi- 
tions of  hope's  satisfaction.    And  what  man  first  of  all 
and  beyond  all  aspires  to,  is  that  single,  undivided  good, 
— the  free  flow  of  his   unitary  life,  stable,  complete, 
eternal.    There  is  hence  always  to  be  found  a  chief  and 
father  among  the  gods  who,  as  mankind  gain  in  wisdom 
and  in  material  power,  consumes  his  mates  and  his  chil- 
dren like  Kronos  or  Jahweh,  inherits  their  attributes 
and  performs  their  functions.     The  chief  divinity  be- 
comes the  only  divinity;  a  god  becomes  God.     But 
divinity,  in  becoming  one  and  unique,  becomes  also  tran- 
scendent.    Monotheism  pushes  God  altogether  beyond 
the  sensible  environment.    Personality,  instead  of  being 
the  nature  of  the  world,  has  become  its  ground  and 
cause,  and  all  that  mankind  loves  is  conserved,  in  order 
that  man,  whom  God  loves,  may  have  his  desire  and  live 
forever.     Life  is  eternal  and  happiness  necessary,  be- 
yond nature, — in  heaven.     Finally,  in  transcendental 
idealism,  the  poles  meet;  what  has  been  put  eternally 
apart  is  eternally  united;  the  immaterial,  impalpable, 
transcendent  heaven  is  made  one  and  continuous  with 
the  gross  and  unhappy  natural  world.    One  is  the  other ; 
the  other  the  one.    God  is  the  world  and  transcends  it ;  is 
the  evil  and  the  good  which  conquers  and  consumes  that 
evil.     The   environment  becomes   thus   described   as   a 
single,  eternal,  conscious  unity,  in  which  all  the  actual 
but  transitory  values  of  the  actual  but  transitory  life 
are  conserved  and  eternalized.    In  a  description  of  God 
such  as  Royce's  or  Aristotle's  the  environment  is  the 
eternity  of  all  its  constituents  that  are  dearest  to  man. 
Religion,  which  began  as  a  definition  of  the  environ- 


VALUE  AND  EXISTENCE 


453 


ment  as  it  moved  and  controlled  mankind,  ends  by  de- 
scribing it  as  mankind  desires  it  to  be.  The  environ- 
ment is  now  the  aforementioned  ideal  socius  or  self  which 
satisfies  perfectly  all  human  requirements.  Pluralistic 
and  quarrelsome  animism  has  become  monistic  and  har- 
monious spiritism.  Forces  have  turned  to  excellences 
and  needs  to  satisfactions.  Necessity  has  been  trans- 
muted to  Providence,  sin  has  been  identified  with  salva-  h 
tion,  value  with  existence,  and  existence  with  impotence 
and  illusion  before  Providence,  salvation,  and  value. 


vn 

With  this  is  completed  the  reply  to  the  question: 
Why  do  men  contradict  their  own  experience.'*  Expe- 
rience is,  as  Spinoza  says,  passion  and  action,  both  in- 
extricably mingled  and  coincident,  with  the  good  and 
evil  of  them  as  interwoven  as  they.  That  piecemeal 
conquest  of  the  evil  which  we  call  civilization  has  not 
even  the  promise  of  finality.  It  is  a  Penelope's  web, 
always  needing  to  be  woven  anew.  Now,  in  experience 
desire  anticipates  and  outleaps  action  and  fact  rebuffs 
desire.  Desire  realizes  itself,  consequently,  in  ideas 
objectified  by  the  power  of  speech  into  independent  and 
autonomous  subjects  of  discourse,  whereby  experience 
IS  One,  Eternal,  a  Spirit  or  Spiritually  Controlled, 
wherein  man  has  Freedom  and  Immortality.  These,  the 
constantly  desiderated  traits  of  a  perfect  universe,  are 
m  fact  the  limits  of  what  adequacy  environmental  sat- 
isfactions can  attain,  ideas  hypostatized,  normative  of 
existence,  but  not  constituting  it.  With  them,  in  phi- 
losophy and  religion,  the  mind  confronts  the  experiences 


454 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


I 


of  death  and  obstruction,  of  manifoldness,  change  and 
materiality,  and  denies  them,  as  Peter  denied  Jesus. 
Xll^ visible  world,  being  not  as  we  want  it,  we  imagine 
an  unseen  one  that  satisfies  our  want,  declaring  the 
visible  one  aji  illusion  by  its  side.  So  we  work  a  radical 
substitution  of  desiderates  for  actualities,  of  ideals  for 
facts,  of  values  for  existences.  Art  alone  acknowledges 
the  actual  relations  between  these  contrasting  pairs. 
Art  alone  so  operates  as  in  fact  to  convert  their  op- 
pugnance  into  identity.  Intrinsically,  its  whole  purpose 
and  technique  consists  of  transmutation  of  values  into 
existences,  in  the  incarnation  the  realization  of  values. 
The  philosophy  and  religion  of  tradition,  on  the  con- 
trary, consists  intrinsically  in  the  flat  denial  of  reality, 
or  at  least,  co-reality,  to  existence,  and  the  transfer  of 
that  eulogium  to  value-forms  as  such. 

Metaphysics,  theology,  ethics,  logic,  aesthetics,  dia- 
lectic developments  as  they  are  of  "  norms  "  or  "  reali- 
ties "  which  themselves  can  have  no  meaning  without 
the  "  apparent,"  changing  world  they  measure  and  belie, 
assume  consequently  a  detachment  and  self-sufficiency 
they  do  not  actually  possess.  Their  historians  have 
treated  them  as  if  they  had  no  context,  as  if  the  elabora- 
tion of  the  ideal  tendencies  of  the  successive  systems 
explained  their  origin,  character,  and  significance.  But 
in  fact  they  are  unendowed  with  this  pure  intrinsicality, 
and  their  development  is  not  to  be  accounted  for  as 
exteriorization  of  innate  motive  or  an  unfoldment  of  in- 
ward implications.  They  have  a  context;  they  are 
crossed  and  interpenetrated  by  outer  interests  and  ex- 
traneous considerations.     Their  meaning,  in  so  far  as 


VALUE  AND  EXISTENCE  455 

it  is  not  merely  aesthetic,  is  nU  apart  from  these  interests 
and  considerations  of  which  they  are  sometimes  expres- 
sions, sometimes  reconstructions,  and  from  which  they 
are  persistently  refuges. 

Philosophy  and  religion  are,  in  a  word,  no  less  than 
art,  social  facts.   They  are  responses  to  group  situations 
without  which  they  cannot  be  understood.     Although 
analysis  has  shown  them  to  be  rooted  in  certain  per- 
sistent motives   and   conditions   of  human  nature   by 
whose  virtue  they  issue  in  definite  contours  and  signifi- 
cances, they  acquire  individuality  and  specific  import- 
ance only  through  interaction  with  the  constantly  vary- 
ing social  situations  in  which  they  arise,  on  which  they 
operate,  and  by  which  they  are  in  turn  operated  on. 
Philosophy    has    perhaps    suff^ered    most    of    all    from 
nescience  of  those  and  from  devoting  itself,  at  a  mini- 
mum, to  the  satisfaction  of  that  passion  for  oneness, 
for  "logical   consistency"  without  which  philosophic 
"systems"   would   never  arise,   nor  the  metaphysical 
distinction  between  "  appearance  "  and  "  reality  ";  and 
with  which  the  same  systems  have  made  up  a  historic  ag- 
gregate of  strikingly  repugnant  and  quarrelsome  units. 
It  is  this  pursuit  of  consistency  as  against  correctness 
which  has  resulted  in  the  irrelevance  of  philosophy  that 
the  philosopher,  unconscious  of  his  motives  and  roots, 
or  naively  identifying,  through  the  instrumentality  of 
an   elaborate   dialectic,  his   instinctive   and   responsive 
valuations  of  existence  with  its  categoric  essences,  con- 
fuses with  inward  autonomy  and  the  vision  of  the  "  real." 
Consequently,   the   systems   of  tradition   begin   as   at- 
tempts to  transvalue  social  situations  whose  existence 


456 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


is  troublesome  and  end  as  utterances  of  which  the  spe- 
cific bearing,  save  to  the  system  of  an  opponent,  is  un- 
discoverable.  The  attempt  to  correct  the  environment 
in  fact  concludes  as  an  abolition  of  it  in  words.  The 
philosophic  system  becomes  a  solipsism,  a  pure  lyric 
expression  of  the  appetites  of  human  nature. 

For  this  perversity  of  the  philosophic  tradition  Plato 
is  perhaps,  more  than  any  one  else,  answerable.    He  is 
the  first  explicitly  to  have  reduplicated  the  world,  to 
have  set  existences  over  against  values,  to  have  made 
them  dependent  upon  values,  to  have  assigned  absolute 
reality  to  the  compensatory  ideals,  and  to  have  identified 
philosophy  with  preoccupation  with  these  ideals.     Be- 
hind his  theory  of  life  lay  far  from  agreeable  personal 
experience  of  the  attitude  of  political  power  toward 
philosophic  ideas.    Its  ripening. was  coincident  with  the 
most  distressing  period  of  the  history  of  his  country. 
The  Peloponnesian  War  was  the  confrontation  of  two 
social  systems,  radically  opposed  in  form,  method,  and 
outlook.     Democracy,  in  Athens,  had  become  synony- 
mous with  demagoguery,  corruption,  inefficiency,  injus- 
tice and   unscrupulousness  in  every  aspect  of  public 
afi^airs.     The  government  had  no  consistent  policy  and 
no  centralized  responsibility ;  divided  counsel  led  to  con- 
tinual disaster  without,  and  party  politics  rotted  the 
strength  within.    Beside  Athens,  Sparta,  a  communistic 
oligarchy,  was  a  tower  of  strength  and  effectiveness. 
The  Spartans  made  mistakes;  they  were  slow,  inept, 
rude,  and  tyrannical,  but  they  were  a  unit  on  the  war, 
their  policy  was  consistent,  responsibilities  were  ade- 
quately centered,  good  order  and  loyalty  designated  the 


VALUE  AND  EXISTENCE 


457 


aims  and  habits  of  life.*    The  Republic  is  the  response 
to  the  confrontation  of  Spartan  and  Athenian ;  the  at- 
tempt to  find  an  adequate  solution  of  the  great  social 
problem  this  confrontation  expressed.     The  successful 
state  becomes  in  it  the  model  for  the  metaphysical  one, 
and  the  difference  between  fact  and  ideal  is  amended  by 
dialectically  forcing  the  implications  of  existence  in  the 
direction  of  desire.     Neither  Athens  nor  Sparta  pre- 
sented a   completely   satisfactory   social   organization. 
There  must  therefore  exist  a  type  of  social  organiza- 
tion which  is  so  satisfying.     It  must  have  existed  from 
eternity,  and  must  be  in  essence  identical  with  eternal 
good,  identical  with  that  oneness  and  spirituality,  lack- 
ing which,  nothing  is  important.    This  archetypal  social 
organization  whose  essence  is  excellence,  it  is  the  con- 
genital vocation  of  the  philosopher  to  contemplate  and 
to  realize.    Philosophers  are  hence  the  paragons  among 
animals,  lovers   of  truth,  haters   of  falsehood   and  of 
multiplicity,  spectators  of  all  time  and  all  existence. 
In  them  the  power  to  govern  should  be  vested.     Their 
nature  is  of  the  same  stuff  as  the  Highest  Good  with 
which  it  concerns  itself,  but  being  such,  it   appears, 
merely  "  appears  "  alas !  irrelevant  to  the  actual  situa- 
tions of  the  daily  life.    The  philosopher  is  hence  opposed 
and  expelled  by  that  arch-sophist.  Public  Opinion :  the 
man  on  the  street,  failing  to  understand  him,  dubs  him 
prater,  star-gazer,  good-for-nothing. f    He  becomes  an 
ineffectual  stranger,  an  outlaw,  in  a  world  in  which  he 
should  be  master. 

•  The  condition  of  England  and  Gennany  in  the  present  civil 
war  in  Europe  echoes  this  situation. 
t  Of.  Republic,  Books  V  and  VI. 


458 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


Plato's  description  of  the  philosopher  and  philosophy 
is,  it  will  be  seen,  at  once  an  apology  and  a  program^ 
But  it  is  a  program  which  has  been  petrified  into  a 
compensatory  ideal.  The  confession  of  impotence,  the 
abandonment  of  the  programmatic  intent  is  due  to  iden- 
tification of  the  ideal  with  metaphysical  fact,  to  the 
hypostasis  of  the  ideal.  With  Christianism,  that  being 
a  philosophy  operating  as  a  religion,  world-weariness 
made  the  apology  unnecessary  and  converted  the  hy- 
postasis into  the  basis  of  that  program  of  complete 
surrender  of  the  attempt  to  master  the  problems  of  ex- 
istence upon  which  ensued  the  arrest  of  science  and  civi- 
lization for  a  thousand  years.  The  Greeks  were  not 
world-weary,  and  consequently,  their  joy  in  life  and 
existence  contributed  a  minimum  of  relevance  to  their 
otherworldly  dreams.  Need  it  be  reasserted  that  the 
whole  Platonic  system,  at  its  richest  and  best  in  the 
Republic,  is  both  an  expression  of  and  a  compensation 
for  a  concrete  social  situation?  Once  it  was  formu- 
lated it  became  a  part  of  that  situation,  altered  it,  served 
as  another  among  the  actual  causes  which  determined 
the  subsequent  history  of  philosophy.  Its  historic  and 
efficacious  significance  is  defined  by  that  situation,  but 
philosophers  ignore  the  situation  and  accept  the  sys- 
tem as  painters  accept  a  landscape — as  the  thing  in 
itself. 

Now,  the  aesthetic  aspect  of  the  philosophic  system, 
its  autonomy,  and  consequent  irrelevancy,  are  undenia- 
ble. Once  it  comes  to  be,  its  intrinsic  excellence  may 
constitute  its  infallible  justification  for  existence,  with 
no  more  to  be  said;  and  if  its  defenders  or  proponents 


VALUE  AND  EXISTENCE 


459 


claimed  nothing  more  for  it  than  this  immediate  satis- 
factoriness,  there  would  be  no  quarrel  with  them.  There 
is,  however,  present  in  their  minds  a  sense  of  the  other 
bearings  of  their  systems.  They  claim  them,  in  any 
event,  to  be  true,  that  is,  to  be  relevant  to  a  situation 
regarded  as  more  important  because  more  lastingly  de- 
terminative of  conduct,  more  "  real "  than  the  situa- 
tion of  which  they  are  born.  Their  systems  are  offered, 
hence,  as  maps  of  life,  as  guides  to  the  everlasting. 
That  they  intend  to  define  some  method  for  the  conserva- 
tion of  life  eternally,  is  clear  enough  from  their  initial 
motivation  and  formal  issue:  all  the  Socratics,  with 
their  minds  fixed  on  happiness  or  salvation  according 
to  the  prevalence  of  disillusionment  among  them;  the 
Christian  systems,  still  Socratic,  but  as  resolutely  other- 
worldly as  disillusioned  Buddhists;  the  systems  of  Spi- 
noza, of  Kant,  the  whole  subsequent  horde  of  idealisms, 
up  to  the  contemporary  Germanoid  and  German  ideal- 
istic soliloquies, — they  all  declare  that  the  vanity  and 
multiplicity  of  life  as  it  is  leads  them  to  seek  for  the 
permanent  and  the  meaningful,  and  they  each  find  it 
according  to  the  idiosyncrasies  of  the  particular  im- 
pulses and  terms  they  start  with.  That  their  Snark 
turns  out  in  every  case  to  be  a  Boojum  is  another 
story. 

Yet  this  story  is  what  gives  philosophy,  like  religion, 
its  social  significance.  If  its  roots,  as  its  actual  biog- 
raphy shows,  did  not  reach  deep  in  the  soil  of  events, 
if  its  issues  had  no  fruitage  in  events  made  over  by  its 
being,  it  would  never  have  been  so  closely  identified  with 
intelligence  and  its  systematic  hypostasis  would  never 


460 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


have  ensued.  The  fact  is  that  philosophy,  like  all  forma 
\  of  creative  intelligence,  is  a  tool  before  it  is  a  perfec- 
5  tion.  Its  autonomy  supervenes  on  its  efficaciousness ;  it 
does  not  precede  its  efficaciousness.  Men  philosophize  in 
order  to  live  before  they  live  in  order  to  philosophize. 
Aristotle's  description  of  the  self-sufficiency  of  theory 
is  possible  only  for  a  life  wherein  theory  had  already 
earned  this  self-sufficiency  as  practice,  in  a  life,  that 
is,  which  is  itself  an  art,  organized  by  the  application 
of  value-forms  to  its  existent  psychophysical  processes 
in  such  a  way  that  its  existence  incarnates  the  values 
it  desiderates  and  the  values  perfect  the  existence  that 

embodies  them. 

The  biography  of  philosophy,  hence,  reveals  it  to  have 
the  same  possibilities  and  the  same  fate  that  all  other 
ideas  have.  Today  ideas  are  the  patent  of  our  human- 
ity, the  stuff  and  form  of  intelligence,  the  differentiae  be- 
tween us  and  the  beasts.  In  so  far  forth,  they  express 
the  surplusage  of  vitality  over  need,  the  creative  free- 
dom of  life  at  play.  This  is  the  thing  we  see  in  the 
imaginings  and  fantasies  of  childhood,  whose  environ- 
ment is  by  social  intent  formed  to  favor  and  sustain  its 
being.  The  capacity  for  spontaneity  of  idea  appears 
to  decrease  with  maturity,  and  the  few  favored  healthy 

i  '    mortals  with  whom  it  remains  are  called  men  of  genius. 

^      William  James  was  such  a  man,  and  there  are  a  few 
still  among  the  philosophers.     But  in  the  mass  and  in  t 
the  long  run,  ideas  are  not  a  primary  confirmation  of  ^ 
our  humanity ;  in  the  mass  and  long  they  are  warnings  - 
of  menace  to  it,  a  sign  of  its  disintegration.     Evenj 
80  radical  an  intellectualist  as  Mr.  Santayana  cherishes 

I 


VALUE  AND  EXISTENCE 


461 


u 


I 


this  observation  to  the  degree  of  almost  suggesting  it  as 
the  dogma  that  all  ideas  have  their  origin  in  inner  or 
outer  maladjustment.*  However  this  may  be,  that 
the  dominant  philosophic  ideas  arise  out  of  radical  dis- 
harmonies between  nature  and  human  nature  need  not 
be  here  reiterated,  while  the  provocative  character  of 
minor  maladjustments  is  to  be  inferred  from  the  fer-  I  (/  /  ^ 
tility  of  ideas  in  unstable  minds,  of  whatever  type,  from 
the  neurasthenic  to  the  mad.  Ideas  represent  in  these 
cases  the  limits  of  vital  elasticity,  the  attempt  of  the 
organism  to  maintain  its  organic  balance ;  it  is  as  if  a 
balloon,  compressed  on  one  side,  bulged  on  the  other.  * 
Ideas,  then,  bear  three  types  of  relations  to  organic 
life,  relations  socially  incarnated  in  traditional  art, 
religion,  and  philosophy.  First  of  all  they  may  be  an 
expression  of  innate  capacities,  the  very  essence  of  the 
freedom  of  life.  In  certain  arts,  such  as  music,  they 
are  just  this.  In  the  opposite  case  they  may  be  the 
effect  of  the  compression  of  innate  capacities,  an  out- 
come of  obstruction  to  the  free  flow  of  life.  They  are  ^ 
then  compensatory.  Where  expressive  ideas  are  con- 
fluent with  existence,  compensatory  ideas  diverge  from 
existence;  they  become  pure  value-forms  whose  para- 
mount realization  is  traditional  philosophy.  Their  rise 
and  motivation  in  both  these  forms  is  unconscious.  They 
are  ideas,  but  not  yet  intelligence.  The  third  instance 
falls  between  these  orignal  two.  The  idea  is  neither 
merely  a  free  expression  of  innate  capacities,  nor  a 
compensation  for  their  obstruction  or  compression. 
Arising  as  the  effect  of  a  disharmony,  it  develops  as  an 

*Cf.  Winds  of  Doctrine  and  Reason  in  Common  Sense. 


'462 


CREATIVE   INTELLIGENCE 


enchannelment  of  organic  powers  directed  to  the  con- 
version of  the  disharmony  into  an  adjustment.  It  does 
not  use  up  vital  energies  like  the  expressive  idea,  it  is 
not  an  abortion  of  them,  like  the  compensatory  idea. 
It  uses  them,  and  is  aware  that  it  uses  them — that  is, 
it  is  a  program  of  action  upon  the  environment,  of 
conversion  of  values  into  existences.  Such  an  idea 
has  the  difFerentia  of  intelligence.  It  is  creative;  it 
actually  converts  nature  into  forms  appropriate  to 
human  nature.  It  abolishes  the  Otherworld  of  the  con- 
pensatory  tradition  in  philosophy  by  incarnating  it 
in  this  world;  it  abolishes  the  Otherworld  of  the  re- 
ligionist, rendered  important  by  belittling  the  actual 
one,  by  restoring  the  working  relationships  between 
thoughts  and  things.  This  restoration  develops  as 
reconstruction  of  the  world  in  fact.  It  consists  spe- 
cifically of  the  art  and  science  which  compose  the  effica- 
cious enterprises  of  history  and  of  which  the  actual 
web  of  our  civilization  is  spun. 

Manifest  in  its  purity  in  art,  it  attends  unconsciously 
both  religion  and  philosophy,  for  the  strands  of  life 
keep  interweaving,  and  whatever  is,  in  our  collective 
being,  changes  and  is  changed  by  whatever  else  may  be, 
that  is  in  reach.  The  life  of  reason  is  initially  uncon- 
scious because  it  can  learn  only  by  living  to  seek  a 
reason  for  life.  Once  it  discovers  that  it  can  become 
self-maintaining  alone  through  relevance  to  its  ground 
and  conditions,  the  control  which  this  relevance  yields 
makes  it  so  infectious  that  it  tends  to  permeate  every 
human  institution,  even  religion  and  philosophy.  Phi- 
losophy, it  is  true,  has  lagged  behind  even  religion  in 


VALUE  AND  EXISTENCE 


463 


relevancy,  but  the  lagging  has  been  due  not  to  the 
intention  of  the  philosopher  but  to  the  inherent  char- 
acter of  the  task  he  assumed.    Both  art  and  religion,  we 
have  seen,  possess  an  immediacy  and  concreteness  which 
philosophy  lacks.    Art,  reconstructs  correlative  portions 
of  the  environment  for  the  eye,  the  ear,  the  hopes  and 
fears  of  the  daily  life.    Religion  extends  this  reconstruc- 
tion beyond  the  actual  environment,  but  applies  its  sav- 
ing technique  at  the  critical  points  in  the  career  of  the 
group  or  the  individual ;  to  control  the  food-supply,  to 
protect  in  birth,  pubescence,  marriage,  and  death.     All 
its  motives  are  grounded  in  specific  instincts  and  needs, 
all   its    reconstructions    and   compensations    culminate 
with  reference  to  these.    Philosophy,  on  the  other  hand, 
deals  with  the  whole  nature  of  man  and  his  whole  en- 
vironment.    It  seeks  primaries  and  ultimates.     Its  tra- 
ditional task  is  so  to  define  the  universe  as  to  articulate 
thereby   a   theory   of   life    and   eternal    salvation.      It 
establishes  contact  with  reality  at  no  individual,  specific 
point :  its  reals  are  "  real  in  general."     It  aims,  in  a 
word,  to  be  relevant  to  all  nature,  and  to  express  the 
whole  soul  of  man.     The  consequence  is  inevitable:  it 
forfeits  relevance  to  everything  natural;  touching  noth- 
ing actual,  it  reconstructs  nothing  actual.    Its  concret- 
est  incarnation  is  a  dialectic  design  woven  of  words. 
The  systems  of  tradition,  hence,  are  works  of  art,  to  be 
contemplated,  enjoyed,  and  believed  in,  but  not  to  be 
acted  on.     For,  since   action  is  always   concrete  and 
specific,  always  determined  to  time,  place,  and  occa- 
sion, we  cannot  in  fact  adapt  ourselves  to  the  aggre- 
gate infinitude  of  the  environment,  or  that  to  ourselves. 


464 


CREATIVE   INTELLIGENCE 


Something  always  stands  out,  recalcitrant,  invincible, 
defiant.  But  it  is  just  such  an  adaptation  that  philoso- 
phy intends,  and  the  futility  of  the  intention  is  evinced 
by  the  fact  that  the  systems  of  tradition  continue  side 
by  side  with  the  realities  they  deny,  and  live  unmixed 
in  one  and  the  same  mind,  as  a  picture  of  the  ocean 
on  the  wall  of  a  dining  room  in  an  inland  town.  Our 
operative  relations  to  them  tend  always  to  be  essentially 
aesthetic.  We  may  and  do  believe  in  them  in  spite  of 
life  and  experience,  because  belief  in  them,  involving  no 
action,  involves  no  practical  risk.  Where  action  is  a 
consequence  of  a  philosophic  system,  the  system  seems 
to  dichotomize  into  art  and  religion.  It  becomes  par- 
ticularized into  a  technique  of  living  or  the  dogma  of 
a  sect,  and  so  particularized  it  becomes  radically  self- 
conscious  and  an  aspect  of  creative  intelligence. 

So  particularized,  it  is,  however,  no  longer  philoso- 
phy, and  philosophy  has  (I  hope  I  may  say  this  without 
professional  bias)  an  inalienable  place  in  the  life  of 
reason.  This  place  is  rationally  defined  for  it  by  the 
discovery  of  its  ground  and  function  in  the  making  of 
civilization;  and  by  the  perfection  of  its  possibilities 
through  the  definition  of  its  natural  relationships. 
Thus,  it  is,  in  its  essential  historic  character  at  least, 
as  fine  an  art  as  music,  the  most  inward  and  human  of 
all  arts.  It  may  be,  and  human  nature  being  what  it 
is,  undoubtedly  will  continue  to  be,  an  added  item  to 
the  creations  wherewith  man  makes  his  world  a  better 
place  to  live  in,  precious  in  that  it  envisages  and  pro- 
jects the  excellences  and  perfections  his  heart  desires 
and  his  imagination  therefore  defines.     So  taken,  it  is 


VALUE  AND  EXISTENCE 


465 


not  a  substitution  for  the  world,  but  an  addition  to  it, 
a  refraction  of  it  through  the  medium  of  human  nature, 
as  a  landscape  painting  by  Whistler  or  Turner  is  not 
a  substitution  for  the  actual  landscape,  but  an  inter- 
pretation and  imaginative  perfection  of  it,  more  suit- 
able to  the  eye  of  man.  A  system  like  Bergson's  is  such 
a  work,  and  its  aesthetic  adequacy,  its  beauty,  may  be 
measured  by  the  acknowledgment  it  receives  and  the 
influence  it  exercises.  Choosing  one  of  the  items  of 
experience  as  its  medium,  and  this  item  the  most  precious 
in  the  mind's  eye  which  the  history  of  philosophy  re- 
veals, it  proceeds  to  fabricate  a  dialectical  image  of 
experience  in  which  all  the  compensatory  desiderates 
are  expressed  and  realized.  It  entices  minds  of  all  or- 
ders, and  they  are  happy  to  dwell  in  it,  for  the  nonce 
realizing  in  the  perception  of  the  system  the  values 
it  utters.  By  abandoning  all  pretense  to  be  true,  philo- 
sophic systems  of  the  traditional  sort  may  attain  the 
simple  but  supreme  excellence  of  beauty,  and  rest  con- 
tent therewith. 

The  philosophic  ideal,  however,  is  traditionally  not 
beauty  but  truth:  the  function  of  a  philosophic  system 
is  not  presentative,  but  representative  and  causal,  and 
that  the  systems  of  tradition  have  had  and  still  have 
consequences  as  well  as  character,  is  obvious  enough. 
It  is,  however,  to  be  noted  that  these  consequences  have 
issued  out  of  the  fact  that  the  systems  have  been  spe- 
cific items  of  existence  among  other  equally  and  even 
more  specific  items,  thought  by  particular  men,  at  par- 
ticular times  and  in  particular  places.  As  such  they 
have  been  programs  for  meeting  events  and  incar- 


466 


CREATIVE    INTELLIGENCE 


nating  values;  operative  ideals  aiming  to  recreate  the 
world  according  to  determined  standards.  They  have 
looked  forward  rather  than  backward,  have  tacitly 
acknowledged  the  reality  of  change,  the  irreducible 
pluralism  of  nature,  and  the  genuineness  of  the  activi- 
ties, oppugnant  or  harmonizing,  between  the  items  of 
the  Cosmic.  Many  they  ostensibly  negate.  The  truth, 
in  a  word,  has  been  experimental  and  prospective;  the 
desiderates  they  uttered  operated  actually  as  such  and 
not  as  already  existing.  Historians  of  philosophy, 
treating  it  as  if  it  had  no  context,  have  denied  or  ig- 
nored this  role  of  philosophy  in  human  events,  but  his- 
torians of  the  events  themselves  could  not  avoid  observ- 
ing and  enregistering  it. 

Only  within  very  recent  years,  as  an  effect  of  the 
concept  of  evolution  in  the  field  of  the  sciences,  have 
philosophers  as  such  envisaged  this  non-aesthetic  aspect 
of  philosophy's  ground  and  function  in  the  making  of 
civilization  and  have  made  it  the  basis  for  a  sober  vision 
which  may  or  may  not  have  beauty,  but  which  cannot 
have  finality.  Such  a  vision  is  again  nothing  more 
than  traditional  philosophy  become  conscious  of  its 
character  and  limitations  and  shorn  of  its  pretense. 
It  is  a  program  to  execute  rather  than  a  metaphysic 
to  rest  in.  Its  procedure  is  the  procedure  of  all  the  arts 
and  sciences.  It  frankly  acknowledges  the  realities  of 
immediate  experience,  the  turbulence  and  complexity  of 
the  flux,  the  interpenetrative  confusion  of  orders,  the 
inward  self-diversification  of  even  the  simplest  thing, 
which  "  change  "  means,  and  the  continual  emergence 
of  novel  entities,  unforeseen  and  unprevisible,  from  the 


VALUE  AND  EXISTENCE 


'467 


reciprocal  action  of  the  older  aggregate.     This  per- 
ceptual reality  it  aims  to  remould  according  to  the 
heart's  desire.     Accordingly  it  drops  the  pretense  of 
envisaging  the  universe  and  devotes  itself  to  its  more 
modest  task  of  applying  its  standards  to  a  particular 
item  that  needs  to  be  remade.     It  is  believed  in,  but  no 
longer  without  risk,  for,  without  becoming  a  dogma,  it 
still  subjects  itself  to  the  tests  of  action.     So  it  ac- 
knowledges that  it  must  and  will  itself  undergo  constant 
modification  through  the  process  of  action,  in  which  it 
uses  events,  in  their  meanings  rather  than  in  their  na- 
tures, to  map  out  the  future  and  to  make  it  amenable  to 
human  nature.    Philosophy  so  used  is,  as  John  Dewey 
somewhere  says,  a  mode  and  organ  of  experience  among 
many  others.     In  a  world  the  very  core  of  which  is 
change,  it  is  directed  upon  that  which  is  not  yet,  to 
previse  and  to  form  its  character  and  to  map  out  the 
way  of  life  within  it.    Its  aim  is  the  liberation  and  en- 
largement of  human  capacities,  the  enfranchisement  of 
man  by  the  actual  realization  of  values.     In  its  in- 
tegrate  character   therefore,   it   envisages   the  life   of 
reason  and  realizes  it  as  the  art  of  life.     Where  it  is 
successful,  beauty  and  use  are  confluent  and  identical 
in  it.     It  converts  sight  into  insight.    It  infuses  exist- 
ence with  value,  making  them  one.     It  is  the  concrete 
incarnation  of  Creative  Intelligence. 


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important. 

CO  -  PARTNERSHIP  AND 
PROFIT  SHARING 
By  Aneurin  Williams.  Ex- 
plains the  various  types  of  co- 
partnership or  profit-sharing,  or 
both,  and  gives  details  of  the 
arrangements  now  in  force  in 
many  of  the  great  industries. 

POLITICAL    THOUGHTS 
From  Herbert  Spencer 
to  the  Present  Day 
By   Ernest  Barker,  M.A.,  Ox- 
ford. 

UNEMPLOYMENT 
By  A.  C.  PiGou,  M.A.,  Professor 
ot^  Political  Economy  at  Cam- 
bridge. The  meaning,  measure- 
ment, distribution,  and  effects  of 
unemployment,  its  relation  to 
wages,  trade  fluctuations,  and 
disputes,  and  some  proposals  of 
remedy  or  relief. 

COMMON-SENSE  IN  LAW 
By  Prof.  Paul  Vinogradoff. 
D.C.L.,  LL.D.  Social  and  Le^al 
Rules — Legal  Rights  and  Duties 
— Facts  and  Acts  in  Law — Leg- 
islation— Custom— Judicial  Pre- 
cedents— Equity — ^The  Law  of 
Nature. 

ELEMENTS  OF  POLITICAL 
ECONOMY 
By  S.  J.  Chapman,  Professor  of 
Political  Economy  and  Dean  of 
Faculty  of  Commerce  and  Ad- 
ministration, University  of  Man- 
chester. A  clear  statement  of 
the  theory  of  the  subject  for 
non-expert  readers. 

THB  SCIENCE  OF  "WEALTH 
By  J.  A.  HoBSON,  author  of 
Problems  of  Povertv.  A  study 
of  the  structure  and  working  of 
the  modern  business  world. 

PARLIAMENT.     Its   History* 

Constitution,  and 

Practice 

By    Sir   Courtekay   P.    Ilbert, 

Clerk  of  the  House  of  Commons. 

"Can  be  praised  without  reserve. 


Admirably     clear." — New     Yorb 

the'    socialist     move- 
ment 

By  J.  Ramsav  Macdonald,  Chair- 
man of  the  British  Labor  Party. 
**The  latest  authoritative  exposi- 
tion of  Socialism." — San  rran* 
cisco   Argonaut. 

LIBERALISM 
By  Prof.   L.  T.  Hob  house,  au- 
thor of  Democracy  and  Reaction. 
A  masterly  philosophical  and  his- 
torical review  of  tne  subject. 

THE  STOCK  EXCHANGE 
By  F.  W.  Hirst,  Editor  of  the 
London  Economist.  Reveals  to 
the  non-financial  mind  the  facts 
about  investment,  speculation, 
and  the  other  terms  which  the 
title  suggests. 

THE  EVOLUTION  OF  IN- 
DUSTRY 
By  D.  H.  MacGregor,  Professor 
or  Political  Economy,  University 
of  Leeds.  An  outline  of  the  re- 
cent changes  that  have  given  us 
the  present  conditions  of  the 
working  classes  and  the  princi- 
ples involved. 

ELEMENTS  OF  ENGLISH 
LAW^ 
By  W.  M.  Geldart,  Vinerian 
Professor  of  English  Law,  Ox- 
ford. A  simple  statement  of  the 
basic  principles  of  the  English 
legal  system  on  which  that  of 
the  United   States  is  based. 

THE  SCHOOL!  An  Introduc- 
tion to  the  Study  of 
Education 
By  J.  J.  FiNDLAY,  Professor  of 
Education,  Manchester.  Pre- 
sents the  history,  the  psycholog- 
ical basis,  and  the  theory  of  the 
school  with  a  rare  power  of  sum- 
mary and  suggestion. 

IRISH  NATIONALITY 
By  Mrs.  J.  R.  Green.  A  bril- 
liant account  of  the  genius  and 
mission  of  the  Irish  people.  "An 
entrancing  work,  and  I  would 
advise  every  one  with  a  drop  of 
Irish  blood  in  his  veins  or  a 
vein  of  Irish  sympathy  in  his 
heart  to  read  it." — New  York 
Times'  Review. 


Cloth  bound,  good  paper,  clear  type,  256  pages 
per  volume,  bibliographies,  indices,  also  maps 
or  illustrations  where  needed.  Each  complete 
and  sold  separately. 


60c. 


net,  per 
Volume 


HENRY      HOLT      AND      COMPANY 
Publishers  New  York 


BERGSON'S  CREATIVE  EVOLUTION 

TwisUhd  from  the  French  by  Vr,  Arthar  ^fXHchett 
$3.00  net,  by  mail  $3.17 

•^ergson's  resources  in  the  way  of  erudition  are  remark- 
able, and  in  the  way  of  expression  they  are  simply  phe- 
nomenal. ...  If  anything  can  make  hard  things  easy  to 
follow  it  is  a  style  like  Bergson's.  It  is  a  miracle  and  he 
a  real  magician.  Open  Bergson  and  new  horizons  open 
on  every  page  you  read.  It  tells  of  reality  itself  instead 
of  reiterating  what  dusty-minded  professors  have  written 
about  what  other  previous  professors  have  thought.  Nothing 
in  Bergson  is  shopworn  or  at  second-hand."— W^iZ/wm  James, 

"A  distinctive  and  trenchant  piece  of  dialectic.  .  .  .  Than 
its  entrance  upon  the  field  as  a  well-armed  and  militant 
philosophy  there  have  been  not  many  more  memorable  occur- 
ences in  the  history  of  ideas."— iVa/ioii. 

"To  bring  out  in  an  adequate  manner  the  effect  which 
Bergson's  philsophy  has  on  those  who  are  attracted  by  it 
let  us  try  to  imagine  what  it  would  have  been  like  to  have 
lived  when  Kant  produced  his  'Critique  of  Pure  Reason.'"— 
Hibbert  Journal 

"Creative  Evolution  is  destined,  I  believe,  to  mark  an 
epoch  in  the  history  of  modern  thought.  The  work  has  its 
root  in  modern  physical  science,  but  it  blooms  and  bears 
fruit  in  the  spirit  to  a  degree  quite  unprecedented.  .  .  . 
Bergson  is  a  new  star  in  the  intellectual  firmament  of  our 
day.  He  is  a  philosopher  upon  whom  the  spirits  of  both 
literature  and  science  have  descended.  In  his  great  work 
he  touches  the  materialism  of  science  to  finer  issues.  Prob- 
ably no  other  writer  of  our  time  has  possessed  in  the  same 
measure  the  three  gifts,  the  literary,  the  scientific,  and  the 
philosophical.  Bergson  is  a  kind  of  chastened  and  spirit- 
ualized Herbert  Spencer."— /o/jn  Burroughs  in  the  Atlantic 
Monthly. 


HENRY     HOLT     AND     COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS  ^^^  ^^^'^ 


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